


Peace

by V_mum



Series: The Reader Insert Series [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: -Isms, Abuse, Autistic Papyrus, Autistic Reader, Autistim, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, F/M, Family, Female Reader, Gen, Greyscale-sexual Reader, Mental Development, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, anyway on to the actual tags:, mental health, monster racism, uh the OCs arent that much of a bother i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'the silence is peaceful.' you sign to him silently.</p><p>That’s a lie. The silence is agonizing when they all are at school and your parents aren’t here. It means your world is empty. You even prefer the yelling of your father to the utter silence when your left in your empty room alone for the whole day, almost every day, completely alone. You hate the silence.</p><p>Maybe that’s why you like how loudly Papyrus yells when he talks?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy so this is your Prologue Chapter; we'll introduce some actual characters next chapter.

Your world was small.

Your life was small.

Beyond it laid _everyone’s_ world.

But that was not _your_ world.

Everything had it’s place, you had your place, the world had its place, all the little things living or existing it had their place.

Your place was small.

Locked away in your bedroom.

Your siblings called you a hermit, jokingly, but they understood why you never leave.

Your mother and father called you incapable and unsociable, not jokingly, and they were the reason you never leave.

The world beyond, didn’t call you much at all, as it didn’t know you even existed.

Your place was not out in the world.

You’d learned your place.

Many times over.

Your place was in this bedroom, maybe in this house, but mostly the bedroom.

Your place was curled in the corner as your 4 other siblings slept at night, reading your books. You watched over them to make sure they slept safe.

Your place was hiding under the bed when your father- Terrance, once a science teacher and a body builder, now a bitter angry man who’s place was fighting the world- went on a war path.

Your place was standing obediently as your mother- Luia, always a drunk at heart since high school that had lost her first 4 children to Fetal Alcohol Syndrome- stood you in front of the mirror, complaining about your imperfections and stuffing you in clothes that the world would never see you in, because _this_ was your place, and your place was being her doll and ‘prized’ oldest daughter.

Your place was watching after Terry, the second oldest after you, a junior in high school. He was gay, and Terrance, your father, didn’t like gays, so only you and your siblings knew, but Terry had a boyfriend, kind and sweet, and you were glad for Terry and his romantic partner of 3 years.

Your place was watching after Fahima, third oldest, high school freshman. She was a genius, IQ certified, and she dreamed big of designing robots and building great inventions, and to think you had taught her maths and reading when she was small. you felt so proud. She brought you books on your own favorite subjects- Languages, cooking and art- from the library, sometimes, and your place was reading them in silence.

Your place was watching after Maverick, in his second year of middle school. When your parents weren’t home, you did his makeup the way mother always did on you, and let him wear the dress mother stuffed you in, and he cried about how much he loved them until you had to re do his makeup, and sometimes he became a she and you called her Mabel when she told you she felt like being a girl that day.

Your place was watching Aloe, the smallest, only in 2nd grade. Aloe was like you… _special_. _Special_. She was _special_ because your mother had drank through the pregnancy as much as she had when she was pregnant with you. She was _special_ because she’d been really hurt by Terrance. She was _special_ , because like you, she had just been born different by genetics.

You were teaching and protecting and loving Aloe like all the other children, but Aloe was precious.

You were glad the others weren’t jealous; they understood how important Aloe being like you was. Why you payed her so much attention.

You knew you were broken, you were _special_ , too. broken.

Something was wrong with you.

That’s why your parents made sure you knew your place.

Inside.

That’s why your father hated you.

That’s why your mother was disappointed and ashamed of you.

That’s why you didn’t talk, that’s why you didn’t leave the house, that’s why you made funny noises and twisted your hands and stayed in corners and watched everything so close and cleaned everything and made everything so strictly neat and rubbed the walls or the floor and ran your hands through your hair so hard and rubbed your arms and yourself so forcefully and- and…

That’s why you were you.

You were the broken one.

You knew your mother still loved you, despite the shame.

You knew because when she wasn’t _so_ drunk, she told you so.

She told you over and over, the story.

Her babies all died in her belly or came out with cold ice bodies in death’s grasp. She’d always wanted a daughter, she’d spent so much time imagining her daughter, and with every dead child she dreamed harder.

Terrance just happened to be the man whose speeds produced a baby that was alive and lived through her heavy drinking. So when you were born, your mother married Terrance, there wasn’t any ‘love’. Terrance just wanted kids, and Luia, your mother, wanted kids, and they were married because that’s what you do when you have kids.

And then, after a little while, they found out you were broken when you were very young, before finishing your third year of school. 

You weren’t the perfect daughter your mother dreamed of.

Hell, you weren’t even a _acceptable_ daughter, said your father.

Useless.

Your mother still tried to make you perfect, deserving of being her oldest, acceptable, good enough for her affection…

…your father gave up on you, you weren’t his, not to him, not a part of his family, just a freeloading creature in his house.

That’s the story, and…

If you weren’t his child, then he didn’t see any harm in hurting you.

That’s why you took Aloe under the bed with you when you hid.

Aloe was broken, too. He broke you and her more when he hurt either of you. you couldn’t let him hurt her. So you let him hurt you. she was broken, but you wouldn’t let him break her more, not your precious Aloe.

Your mother gave them that name in hope.

Aloe.

Aloe’s old name was once Tess. But your mother changed Aloe’s name when she found out Aloe was broken, too.

She wanted Aloe to heal. Be fixed.

You loved Aloe how she was.

You loved all your siblings.

Broken Aloe, Gender Norm Disrupting Fahima, Gender Fluid Maverick or Mabel, Homosexual Terry, they weren’t just _in_ your world, they _were_ your world.

Your place, even if your father didn’t like those things and would be mad, was mad, hated it.

Even if your mother tried to fix those things about them.

You loved what was in your place as it was.

In your own world.

Locked up in it.

Held prisoner.

Captive.

_Let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out Let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out Let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out Let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out let me out_

 

Your place.

Your world.

Your prison.

 

But at least the silence, when everyone was at school or work and no one was getting hurt or crying or screaming…

 

 

_At least the silence was peaceful._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright first real chapter up and done

Aloe slept soundly.

Mother and Father were away, so it was quiet, but it wasn’t silent; which was… good. You hated the silence. Thankfully, the silence was interrupted, with the soft sounds that made up the best part of your tiny little world; your siblings, talking happily downstairs.

You sat on your bed, right under the window, and you watched out at the forest, leaves and powders of snow blown in a soft wind. It was a park, actuall; you could just see the tops of the swings nd pavilions over the outcrop of trees that separate your house from them. Your siblings still go out there to play, in the trees, sometimes further to the playground.

You had fond memories there. Before you stopped going. Before School was impossible to survive with a smile and an unfriendly place. Before he started to hit you. Before your mother was disappointed in you. Before you stopped leaving the house.

You looked down to stop thinking about it. Aloe’s curly, ginger locks stuck out in all angles. Her tiny teeth looked strangely sharp and jagged; a birth defect. Broken child. Like you. Aloe wore a black mask that covered the lower half of their face to school. It made you sad that she was so insecure about herself, still so small and young.

You brushed your fingers over Aloe’s soft pink-ish skin as she breathed gently, curled tight, freckled face rested in your lap. Aloe was as pretty as your mother, looked just like her, same hair and all. Her eyes were green, though; your mothers’ were blue. And Aloe was cuter when she slept; Luia, mother, she tended to just pass out on the couch or the dining table, drunk. Aloe was cute, so small, she curled up like a kitten when slept.

Maybe one day, you and Aloe could… go to the park… through the trees. You used to take Terry there, until your father caught you leaving the house. It was one of the few times he’d ever hurt any of the other children, besides you. Terry had cried and cried. You had cried too.

One day. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

It was early winter, first day of Christmas break. The kids would go back to school in two weeks, after the break was over; until then, your world would be less… suffocating quiet. Maybe… Aloe could play in the snow with them this year.

There was a shift in the trees outside that caught your attention, more than just the light gusts of wind sending the few leaves still on the trees tumbling and scattering snow.

You stared, eyes wide and round, when the movement revealed its source.

You watch a skeleton tumble out of the bushes.

_A skeleton._

You lived in your own world. You’d never seen the monsters with your own eyes before.

The most you’d seen was on TV, as it was the biggest story in _ever_ when the monsters had emerged from the underground a year ago.

The biggest story to the world, that is.

Not to your world.

You’d never thought you’d ever see a monster in person; your father hated monsters. Like he hated most things. You never expected one to ever enter your world, or come close enough to be seen from it.

You were awe inspired.

Gently, you shook the child’s shoulder.

Aloe woke with a yawn after a few minutes; during which you watched the skeleton flop onto his back, shaking; he was laughing, it echoed loudly through the trees and bounced back off the walls of the neighborhood houses. Warm, happy, loud. It filled the final cracks of silence, and you kind of liked it.

You motioned Aloe out the window, using your fingers to push hair out of her pretty green eyes as you pulled them close and pointed out the window and sat her up.

The open air chilled through the open, screen-less square to the outside, beyond your world, the other world. The child’s eyes were immediately as wide as yours. Wonder and awe.

You turned, twisting, to reach for you brother Terry’s cell phone, to get a picture, because you’d probably never see a monster, a skeleton man, ever again.

Aloe leaned forward to get a better look.

Too far.

You turned back and she was leaned all the way out the window. You didn’t even have the seconds to process that they might fall, before Aloes tiny little hands on the cold marble sill, frosted with winter, _slid_.

And then the brilliant orange hair was disappearing over the edge of the little wall portal.

Lunge to try and reach.

Miss.

Falling.

Aloe.

Two story drop.

A crackled scream tearing past a voice that didn’t ever speak, strangled and twisted and marred.

A terrified, frightening scream that was yours as you watched a body drop like lead.

Orange.

Not just the orange of Aloe’s hair, but a glowing orange that defied logic. The child floated just a little above the shallow snows and hard ground just bellow it, curled in a terrified ball.

“ _Hhhhhhhh_ -” the long wheezing noise came not from you or your sister.

A glance further up the slope of the yard had the skeleton slouched in relief, leaned all the way forward, gloved hand aglow with the same illogical orange, covered in clumps of snow.

“THAT WAS NOT FUN.”

You, uh, had to agree.

Your heart was still ready to fall out of your mouth and jump around the yard, it was beating so fast.

Aloe was still curled up and the orange surrounding her floated her slowly in the direction of the skeleton man.

For Aloe- or any of your siblings for that matter- the barrier of the worlds didn’t matter; you would cross the line of separation without a moment’s thought. So you ran, immediately, to get outside and to your youngest sibling.

You ran out of your room, into the rarely treaded rest of the house, past the flock of your siblings on the couch- whom all gave out startled calls when you raced past and _out the door??_

You heard them clambering behind you to follow suit, shouting your name, but you persist despite.

You turned the corner after running along the side of the house, tripping and rolling in the wet snow and covering the long sleeved grey shirt and jeans on your person in white clumps that already started to melt into the cloth, otherwise not dressed in the least for such cold- even with just socks on your feet, cold!- but you scrambled up to your hands and knees, panting, searching the yard for your sibling and the stranger.

The skeleton had gotten up and the child was clutched in his boney, gloved hands. Aloe clung to him tight, breathing heavy, shaking from the surprise of it all and, probably, also the cold. They clutched their savoir like a lifeline, and the bone man held them close and securely.

You almost collapsed again when Aloe looked fine beyond initial shock.

The skull turned to you, and he raced to your side upon recognizing you as the woman in the window.

“OLDER HUMAN, IS THIS YOUR CHILD? I AM FRIGHTENED, FOR THEY DO NOT SEEM OKAY!”

He was loud; even louder than his laughing before, and this wasn’t laughing, it was yelling, like your father and you flinched instinctively. So did Aloe. The skeleton winced in response to the both of your responses.

The clamor of your siblings reached you from behind, and they all skidded to a stop as you stood up from the snow, still leaned over and bracing yourself; your siblings had caught up with you, but your breath had been left behind in your panic. Your feet burned in the cold as the white on the ground melted into the fabric on your feet.

Barely a moment of surprised quiet, before immediately, questions.

“Aloe?!”

“Wh-what- what is?!”

“woAH IS THAT ONE OF THE MONSTERS?”

“What the hell-”

You grunt strangely and instinctively at such language, and the last speaker- Terry, your oldest brother- flinched and blushed with a stutter. “S-sorry, sis.”

You wheeze and shake and look up from your heavy breathing panicked hunch, craning your neck up to see the skeleton’s face. He looked quite concerned with it all.

You don’t bother trying to sign at him- no one had ever known sign language outside your own home, not even your teachers before you had graduated high school. Even your father didn’t know it, and your mother only some basics.

Instead you struggle and wrack your brain to figure out what to do in this situation and turn to the nearest of your siblings, Fahima, and she understands your hand signs with ease- “ **take him inside. Must thank him.** ”

They don’t question you, yet. You may be broken, but they know you’re smart. And they know he _really_ needs thanking if you’re inviting someone inside. You don’t like people coming inside, let alone inviting them. But… well, your parents won’t be home for a while. It should be okay.

They all bounce forward on the orders you gave to Fahima with zero hesitation and total excitement with this new stranger who was apparently lucky enough to be able to go inside. The shorter girl who received the actual order initially is quickly in front of the tall skeleton, dipping her head in a bow, signing the words thank you out of habit as she spoke, “Please, please, my sister would like you to come inside, to show you thanks.” Her bowing reminded you vaguely of her addiction to anime.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks a million!” 13 year old Maverick didn’t know why he was saying thanks, but he didn’t sound any less thankful.

“Sis doesn’t let just anyone in, dude, come on, let us thank you!” Terry was in awe- both at the fact that he was meeting a real live monster, and that for the first time in his life someone beyond their own family would be coming inside, let alone invited by you of all people in the family.

You started twitching just a little, rubbing your hands against your jeans to warm them, looking at the tall skeleton. Nervous, but strangely… hopeful.

“WELL- YOU ARE INDEED A FRIENDLY CROWD. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS CAN NOT TURN DOWN SUCH WARM OFFERS.” He’s grinning and he looks as bright- if not still a little ruffled- as he had when he’d flopped into the snow laughing like earlier.

He carefully returns the child when you hold out your shaking arms. Aloe is warm, like a child made of fire, and even if she wasn’t a source of warmth out in the snow, you snuggled her like a life line, shaking and cooing with strange noises. Aloe snuggles back at your version of loving words.

The rag tag bunch of siblings quickly escort the skeleton to the front door- Maverick is a bundle of excited joy, and grabs the skeleton’s hand to tug him along excitedly. You tense, worried about the bold move and your rather energetic sibling getting rejected and crushed, but Papyrus- as he called himself- holds it back  with mirrored excitement, beaming. You calm down, and continue to trail at the back of the group.

The two are in a loud, excited conversation about something off of TV you don’t know about before you even get through the door. you find yourself okay with listening, despite Papyrus’ loud vocals, which you find yourself quickly adjusting to.

You sign toward Terry as you all get inside, closing the door, asking him to retrieve blankets and he nods quickly, with a glance at you and your cold small sister and then he’s gone and back in a flash; he did run track, after all. “Papyrus, right, you said? Yeah, yeah, yeah, you, uh, you want a blanket? You cold?” Terry asks quickly, holding a third as he hands you two.

Papyrus breaks off from Maverick and laughs as the child drags him to sit down on a couch, before climbing up the cushions to sit beside his new skeleton friend. “A SKELETON FEELS NO COLD! AS MY BROTHER WOULD SAY, THE COLD _GOES RIGHT THROUGH US_!” he makes a funny noise at himself and squints with a frown at the pun, but grins again when everyone around you laughs. You even muster a smile as Aloe giggles silently. “AND EVEN IF I WERE NOT A SKELETON, AS A WARRIOR, UNDYNE SAYS WE FEEL NO COLD! WE ARE FIERCE AND DISIPLENED!”

Fahima asks about Undyne and Papyrus happily answers questions about his fish-monster friend for a solid 39 minutes, proud to talk about a supposed head of the royal guard who is now a police chief, who also taught him to cook, and so on, so on, so on. You enjoy listening, huddled in a blanket with Aloe wrapped in the other two in your arms. Papyrus’ voice is starting to have that same effect as his laugh did before. Warm and nice and soothing.

His conversation and the questions in chatter with your siblings drifts back and forth freeform around different things after Undyne’s spiel. Like moving to the city last month, and random chatter about a friend of his who teaches at a school, said monster woman apparently named Toriel- you could swear you’ve hear that name on TV, hmm, you think it might have something to do with the king guy, Asgore? Or maybe the Ambassador?

He mentions Undyne again at some point, and says they still do warrior training.

“Warrior?” Maverick chirps in awe. You recall Papyrus mentioned his warrior’s discipline before, too, checking your clock to see it’s been almost an hour. you start to wonder if maybe you should offer a skeleton drinks; can they even drink? Would that be rude? Or was it rude not to offer refreshments?

Papyrus buffs up, proud, “YES, WHY, I AM PAPYRUS, SWORN TO DEFEND FRIENDS FROM THE FORCES OF EVIL, AND THAT INCLUDES SAVING FALLING CHILDREN!”

“Falling-?” Terry’s head cocks.

Papyrus waves exuberantly. “YES, THE- THE TINY HUMAN! I LOOKED UP TO HEAR A STRANGE AND RATHER FRIGHTENING SOUND AND ON INSTINCT I HAVE CAPTURE A SMALL HUMAN BEFORE THEY HIT THE GROUND! FRISK WILL BE JEALOUS THAT I AM CAPTURING OTHER CHILDREN…” Papyrus adds that last part to himself, and although it was lower and more mumbled, it was loud and clear as were all of his spoken, practically yelled words.

You flinch and stutter, rubbing your blanket between your hands with a shutter. You make a tiny noise to yourself, and it’s just as garbled and distorted as the scream, although quieter.

Papyrus recognized it, apparently. “OH, HUMAN, WAS THAT YOU THAT MADE SUCH A SOUND?”

You make a few more garbled noises in fright and fall silent, wrapping yourself in your blanket and standing, signing a quick “ **I’ll get drinks.** ” To no one in particular before rushing into the kitchen.

“OH- WAIT, HUMAN- I DID NOT MEAN TO BE OFFENSIVE- YOU ARE BY FAR ONE OF THE LEAST FRIGHTENING HUMANS I HAVE EVER SEEN ABOVE THE SURFACE!”

You flinch and duck under the hand that touched your shoulder and rush out of the room, blanket flying behind you, making a low keening sound.

“Aw, dude, that wasn’t cool…” Terry mutters after you’ve safely fled, and have not been followed, much to your relief. You think about drinks again, trying to chill yourself out, because honestly, this Papyrus skeleton seemed to have very good intention, right? You try and not think about your- your, uh, noises.

“I AM VERY SORRY- I DID NOT EXPECT THEM TO HAVE MADE THE SOUND, IT WAS UNLIKE ANYTHING I HAD EVER HEARD A HUMAN MAKE.”

You slumped before you could even open the fridge.

“ _pap_ , sis can still here you!” Maverick whined.

A startled gasp, followed by, “BUT I'M NOT BEING OFFENSIVE- I- WELL I'M NOT TRYING TO BE, I AM STATING A FACT- UH- I AM SORRY, OLDEST HUMAN!”

 _At least he’s just innocently honest,_ you assure yourself. He’s nicer than your father even if he yells like him, you’ve already reminded yourself. He’s nicer about the sounds than others who brought them up during school, too. Its. Its- its okay.

You glance to the door way and see Fahima peering through her glasses and messy black bangs at you in concern. **“Tell him it is fine.”** You sign at her.

Fahima nods and you open the fridge, and hear her say in the quietest voice in the room, “she forgives you, it’s okay.”

Papyrus sounds a little relieved, and you get the impression he’s trying not to follow you into the kitchen as he continues to you despite the separation of walls, “IT IS NOT FINE IF YOU ARE STILL OFFENDED, HUMAN. THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES NOT LEAVE FRIENDS WITH HURT FEELINGS, I SWEAR ON MY GREATNESS, I SHALL MAKE IT UP TO YOU.”

Brow furrowing, you pretend you didn’t here the word _friend_ and instead peek out, signing to your nearest sibling. **“but he already saved Aloe. I should make it up to _him_.”** you stress the ‘him’ with a final flourish to your hand signs.

But before Terry, your selected sibling you had signed to, can say anything, Papyrus already responds. “I ASSURE YOU HUMAN, I HAVE NOT APPOLOGIZED ENOUGH TO EARN YOUR THANKS, SO DO NOT WORRY ABOUT MAKING ANYTHING UP AT ALL!”

You glance at him in surprise, at his words and his lack of needing translation for both aspects. **“I assure you, I need to thank you much more.”** You sign at him directly, a little slower, testing out if he really could read your moving hands.

“I WILL NOT HAVE THAT, HUMAN, FOR YOU HAD BROUGHT ME INTO YOUR HOME AND I HAVE INSULTED YOU!” Papyrus is nothing if not dedicated and passionate, fist to his chest in a make shift salute as he stands up. “ASSURE ME NOTHING, THERE ARE NO THANKS LEFT TO BE HAD ON YOUR END AND MANY APOLOGIES TO COME FROM MINE. I WILL BEGIN NOW BY SAYING I AM VERY SORRY!”

You are… perplexed. You shift further out, drawn forward. “ **But-** ”

He stops you immediately. “NO BUTS, I SHALL CONTINUE. I AM VERY SORRY, VERY VERY SORRY!”

Your brow further furrows, and your hands falter, “ **But-** ”

“NO BUTS! I AM VERY SORRY, VERY VERY VERY SORRY!”

“ **But-** ”

“NO BUTS! I AM VERY SORRY, VERY VERY VERY, _VERY_ SORRY!”

This pattern continues for quite a few minutes. You are determined. He is fervent.

He repeats the word ‘very’ a grand total of 11 times before the two of you and your little… _thing_ is interrupted by a knock on the door.

You look floored to hear the sound of a knock at the door.

Both Terrance and Luia don’t come home this soon from work, and even if they has, your mother and father don’t _knock_ ; they _live here_ , after all.

Who would be coming that would knock?

“I WILL BEGIN MY _REAL_ APPOLOGIES FOR YOU BY ANSWERING THAT FOR YOU! PLEASE SIT, HUMAN, YOU STILL LOOK VERY COLD!”

Before anyone else could even move, Papyrus has jumped down the hall and reached the door in mere seconds. It opens as you and the older three of your siblings- you notice Aloe has fallen asleep on the couch in the curls of the two blankets.

“OH. HELLO, SANS!”

Sans?

“Found you, bro. This is a pretty weird hiding spot.”

“HIDING SP-- OH, RIGHT, OUR GAME! I AM SO SORRY, SANS, I WAS PLAYING OUR GAME OF HIDE AND SEEK BUT I WAS DISTRACTED! HUMANS! HUMANS, THIS IS MY BROTHER!”

Papyrus calls excitedly, and steps to the side so you and your peeking siblings can see the door at the end of the hall.

A short, grinning skeleton in more wintery-attire than Papyrus whom gives you a feeling like he’s very suspicious about finding his brother in a stranger’s home enters a couple steps so the door can close.

He immediately makes you… nervous.

You don’t want so many people inside. Two is two more than you’ve ever had.

You take a shuttering breath and back track into the living room, and you’re rubbing furiously into your blanket, sweating. You pressed your back to the wall of your normal corner of the living room for support; it felt safe, and it felt nice, like the blanket. Your hands rub into the pain of the wall in a box like shape under the blanket; up, left, down, right, up, left, down, right…

“WOAH, TWO SKELETONS!” Maverick is your opposite, inherently very excited and welcoming to have so many new people in his house.

“THAT IS RIGHT, SMALL HUMAN, THE GLORIOUS SKELETON BROTHERS OF SNOWDIN!” Papyrus is elated at Maverick’s excitement.

“I guess you could say we’re the _skelebros_.”

“NOT THE TIME FOR PUNS, SANS, I AM IN THE MIDST OF APPOLOGIZING TO THE OLDEST HUMA- WHERE HAS THE OLDEST HUMAN GONE?”

You had backed down to sit on the floor with your back still pressed into the corner and sunken into you blanket, content to only watch and listen; but soon all your siblings turn to look at you, aside from the one fast asleep, and Papyrus darts out of the front hall, dragging his brother- who doesn’t seem to care about being dragged at all- with him, and then there’s two more eyes on you.

Papyrus doesn’t let you suffer under the staring and silence long, bless him.

“HUMAN- AM I STILL OFFENDING YOU? YOU LOOK UPSET, I AM NOW VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, _VERY_ SORRY!”

You sign quickly, pressing further into the corner. “ **but-** ”

“HUMAN! I AM NOW VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, _VERY_ , _VERRRRY_ SORRY!” he plants his hands on his hip bones, releasing his hold on the front of his brother’s jacket to do so.

You hang your head, and finally give in. you sign without looking up. “I ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY!” PApyrus repeats it out loud excitedly.

He then continues, “THAT IS ONLY THE FIRST STEP TO MY APOLOGY, OF COURSE! THERE IS MUCH MORE THAT I MUST DO TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU!”

You look up and smile in an almost painful way.

Sans is still giving you that feeling that he’s suspicious- _really_ suspicious at this point- but he looks nonchalant and doesn’t question it. He’s really freaking you out and you press further into the little corner and pull your blanket tighter.

With another glance at Papyrus, your hands shake, but you manage the signs when you look back at Sans again. **“so do you”** a pause, and you can tell from the way that the shorter brother is observing your hands that the answer to your question will be a ‘yes’, but finish your question anyway, **“do you both know sign language, then?”**

Sans produced to you a thumbs up, and that was his answer, apparently.

Papyrus took the question and ran with it. “OH, YES! YOU SEE OUR OWN TINY HUMAN, THAT IS, OUR FAVORITE HUMAN, Frisk, WHOM IS ABOUT THE AGE OF THE SMALL HUMAN WHO FELL OUT OF THE WINDOW- THEY DO NOT TALK MUCH, JUST LIKE YOU, OLDER HUMAN! THEY HAVE THUSLY TAUGHT US THEIR SPECIAL HUMANS HAND LANGUAGE! IT HAS SPREAD LIKE WILD FIRE AMONGST MONSTERS ESPECIALLY, SEEING AS MANY MONSTERS HAD TROUBLE COMMUNICATING TO HUMANS WHEN SOME HAVE NO MOUTH. THERE ARE SOME MONSTERS WITH NO HANDS, THOUGH, BUT THEY STILL LEARN IT SO THEY CAN UNDERSTAND IT! HUMANS CAN BE SO INTERESTING, A WHOLE LANGUAGE WITH JUST YOUR HANDS! WOWIE!”

As Papyrus spoke, and continued even past that with more chatter, you smiled and inched your way toward the kitchen. You made sure it was obvious you were still listening, but felt infinitely better when you were out of view, safe in the other room and protected from sight by the walls.

You peeked out a minute later to see everyone had settled into couch seats. Your siblings kept the conversation up on your behalf by chattering questions and you listened with a warmer smile. Aloe shifted in their sleep and leaned into Papyrus, still wrapped in their blankets. You found yourself… okay with that. You felt Aloe was very safe with Papyrus.

Disappearing back into the kitchen, you prepared a tray with the tea you had made fresh just this morning and had put in the fridge to chill.

You liked tea. Tea was good. It calmed your nerves. Tea was good.

You like Tea. Tea is good. It calms your nerves. Tea is good.

You found yourself repeating that to yourself in your head, making soft cooing noises under your breath that equated to words for you, repeating it like a mantra.

You like Tea. Tea is good. It calms your nerves. Tea is good.

You continued to do it, almost mindlessly as you brought out a serving tray with 7 cups, also cleaned and made pristine just this morning when you did the dishes. You settled the tray down on the coffee table, still mumbling and blurbling without thinking about it.

None of your siblings seemed surprised at all as you picked each cup up, one at a time, and brought it to them. Aloe woke up at the familiar smell of the aromatic tea and the menstruations of your calming mutters and took their cup with a big, strange-toothed grin. Each of your siblings did, too, smiling kindly; this was the usual. Tea was always nice, and this was the most active way you interacted with them, you didn’t do much signing even with your siblings.

You approached Papyrus with another cup, and he took your offering without even commenting on your sounds. Sans seemed intrigued as you came to him with a cup, finding himself interested in your strange rituals.

When you had handed out all the cups except yours, which was still on the coffee table, you started signing your mantra in smooth, flourishing motions.

You like Tea. Tea is good. Tea is good.

The brothers observed it before you took the tray, leaving the cup on the table, and your repeated mumbling changed and your signs shifted as you came back out. Your words followed your sparse thoughts as you went to the table to get your cup, and you signed the words as you mombled them. Can skeletons drink? Is this rude, offering them drinks? Is it rude? It is rude. It is rude. Silly you. silly you. back to the kitchen, you fool. Silly. Back to the kitchen. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Useless.

You trailed away and neither of the skeletons quite knew how to respond as you went into the kitchen again before you could even get to your drink.

“Uh, kids, is… your… sister?... okay?” It was Sans who asked on  a low tone.

You had incredibly good hearing. Your siblings thought it best not to point this out to him.

Instead you could practically feel Terry look up in surprise. “Of course she is. Why?”

“Sis is great, ya know!” Maverick cheered. “She does that when she’s comfortable, yeah, it means she’s okay with you guys!”

You smile. Maverick is cute.

You are coming back out after putting away the tray, and you catch the edges of Aloe signing. You missed whatever they said.

Papyrus looks touched, whatever it had been. “THE HUMAN IS INDEED NICE, SMALL ONE, I AM GLAD I SAVED YOU FOR THEM!”

You smile and retrieve your own cup. There is still couch space left, but you pointedly curl up with your blanket on the floor beside the couch, your back against the wall. It feels safe.

“How’d you end up saving a kid but apologizing a bunch?” Sans inquired, wondering just what he’s missed.

“OH.” Papyrus grins, “WELL YOU SEE THE TINY HUMAN FELL OUT THE WINDOW ON THE TOP FLOOR, AND I, THE MAGNIFICENT, AMAZING, CHILD-RESCUING GREAT PAPYRUS WAS NOT GOING TO LET THE CHILD HURT THEMSELF, OF COURSE, SO I CAUGHT THEM, OF COURSE.” Papyrus’ grin wanes with guilt. “HOWEVER WHEN OLDER HUMAN INVITED ME IN TO SAY THANKS I WAS OFFENSIVE TO THEM.”

You shake your head, earning looks. You start a sign but Papyrus’ gaze bored into you in made your hands stop before you could deny it. You had already accepted his apology. You let out some air and relent. Papyrus nods approvingly.

“FEAR NOT, HUMAN. AT ANY RATE, I DO NOT FIND ALL YOUR STRANGE SOUND TO BE FRIGHTENING.” You don’t let yourself flinch at that, because you know he has the best intention. Papyrus continues, and you blink in surprise up at him, “IN FACT I FIND MYSELF STRANGELY WARMED WHEN YOU MADE THE NOISES TO THE SMALL CHILD AFTER THE FALL, AND WHEN YOU SERVE TEA.”

You flush dark red, and a strange, twisted croon escapes you in surprised and you bit your thumb. You almost spill your tea in surprise, and stumble to catch it.

Aloe is nodding along, as is Maverick. Terry seems pleased, and quiet Fahima adjusts her glasses proudly before adding, “Sis’ got lots of pretty sounds, Papyrus.”

Papyrus grins wide. “I DO NOT DOUBT IT. I SUPOSE THE FACT THAT THE ORIGINAL ONE WAS MEANT TO BE A SCREAM IS WHY IT WAS FRIGHTENING IN THE FIRST PLACE, OF COURSE IT WOULD BE FRIGHTEN- OH, NO, UH-” Papyrus loses his trail as he realizes he’s called it frightening again, and raises his empty, not-tea holding hand up and flusters, “I AM SORRY, HUMAN!” You don’t mind at all, not any more. You’re still red over the face over the fact he _complimented_ your broken noises. They were broken, after all. They weren’t supposed to be liked.

You rub your thumbs over the soft blanket and avoid looking his way, blushing furiously, and you’re vaguely aware that your eyes are watering and you make a quiet blubbering noise in response that’s almost pitiful.

Papyrus sets his tea down, thinking he’s made you cry with his rudeness, and has started in straight to 25 verys in his apology, before Sans pointedly states, “Pap, bro, that’s not sad crying.”

“TEARS ARE FOR SAD PEOPLE, THOUGH! DO NOT CRY HUMAN, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO! I WILL CONTINUE APOLOGIZING IF YOU DO NOT STOP CRYING!”

You squeak and bury your head in your blankets, and your siblings all laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont really put myself in the 'you' spot, or use my name at the __________ or the [y/n]  
> like i dont really insert myself, ya know?  
> So i kinda name my reader character, and you know i like the name 'You', heheh...


	3. Chapter 3

Sans and Papyrus leave shortly after the tea is gone.

At some point, Papyrus brings up that skeletons do drink and eat and need to do both for survival, but really, that only brings more questions to your mind that you don’t ask because, well, its _gotta_ be rude to ask how someone’s innards work when they don’t even have any, right?

Papyrus tries to get your phone number before he and Sans leave, but you do not have one. Instead, he gets both Terry and Fahima’s. Papyrus forcefully inserts the same phone numbers into Sans’ own cell phone that he gets from your bother and sister, talking about in-case-of-emergencies, and as they leave you step outside the door for the second time that day, wrapped in a blanket now, and wave your goodbyes from the porch. You find yourself smiling even if Sans still creeps you out a bit and the volume of Papyrus’ voice is still a little head-splitting- though, unmistakably warm and strangely comforting.

Papyrus calls in a yell from half way down the street that he will be back and will make a call when he has an idea how to ‘make-it-up-to-you’, but at this point, you barely remember the initial ‘insult’ and can only remember the fact he said he _liked_ some of your… _noises_.

He _liked_ the sounds you made. God, thinking about that still made your face red at total random, even after Papyrus and his brother had left.

You’re particularly vocal with your crooning and mumbles the whole day afterward, which makes all of your siblings strangely happy. At least, until your parents come home.

You end up grabbing Aloe and hiding under the bed for most the night, afraid they’ll find out people were over. You washed the dishes and made enough tea to fill the jug up again, and cleared and cleaned until there probably wasn’t even a remaining cell (did monsters _have_ cells if they were dust-composed?) anywhere in the house from them. Erased their very existence and all damning or minuscule evidence. But you were still terrified they might find out, so you didn’t come out from under the bed for the rest of the night, and Aloe curled in next to you.

Your father, like he hates just about everything, also hates monsters. Is hating Monsters racist? Or species-ist? It has to be an –ism of some kind, right?

Whatever the ism is, he has it. You already aren’t allowed to bring people into the house- you aren’t even allowed to _know_ people- let alone a monster, or anyone else on your father’s hate list. Which again, was pretty extensive; it listed gays, trans, various human races, monsters, and broken people, like you.

Fahima’s phone is blasted with the occasional knock knock joke or pun from Sans; by blasted, she gets one every other day. But Fahima has never been very social, so that’s a lot more texts then she’s used to. She shares them with all her siblings at bed time, when the parents go to bed and it’s just them getting ready to go to sleep for the night. They call it the Comic Sans Reading, because Sans sends them at the same time every other night, right as the sun sets. They’re all too embarrassed to ever respond to Sans’ texts, but they all really like his puns. He always has a new one, even if they never send even a single response.

It’s nice.

Papyrus calls Terry after about a week.

He asks if you will be home and want to meet him at your house, as he has an idea to begin ‘making it up to you’.

You’re nervous, but you sign to Terry a yes. Terry tells Papyrus you agree. Papyrus suggests a time, but Terry suggests a new one; your parents will be gone at the time Terry suggests. Papyrus doesn’t have a suspicious bone in his body about the new recommendation and agrees without hesitation. He says all you're siblings can come, and to dress warm.

That makes you more nervous, but Terry hangs up excitedly.

You don’t sleep that night, even if Sans’ joke of the night gets you grinning, it doesn’t ease your nerves. Why did you need to dress warm?

You do as your told. You pull on baggy clothes- long sleeved shirt, thick jeans, a hoodie.

Terry and Maverick both get a little excited and demand you sit on the counter in the bathroom, barging in halfway through even finishing changing. If you’re leaving the house, they will make you look pretty! Or, so Maverick demands.

Terry brushes your hair with a warm smile, and Maverick, after so many lessons from you that translate from your mother, is very good for his age with makeup. He takes in the fact your wearing all black (you hadn’t noticed how dark your color choice had gone, oops?) and the colors he picks for your lipstick and the soft amount of eye shadow he applies match it, and you smile before kissing his cheek and he whines and blushes, complaining you messed up your lipstick and he re-does it, but he’s smiling even bigger even after he sees the dark kiss mark in the mirror on his cheek.

When they seem happy and satisfied, you help them all get dressed too, just like for school. Terry likes his colorful sweaters and has his bright rainbow jacket and blue jeans. Maverick decides he wants to be Mabel today, so you help him pick out a pretty red sundress from your old clothes and put cute berets in his hair, and he officially changes into a she for the day at the end when you do her makeup, smiling happily. Aloe loves her green clothes just like her name sake and you help her change out of her green pajamas and into a pair of green jeans, big green striped sweater, and a light green coat that’s water proof for the snow. Fahima smiles as you help her pick out a blue-themed outfit of jeans and long sleeved shirt that’s almost long enough to be a dress, before stuffing herself into and zipping up her white trench coat.

Your family is so cute and you smile with pride.

You’re sitting, waiting for Papyrus to show up, on your bed and making a soft blurb of hums as you run you hands through Fahima’s long, pretty black hair when the door is slammed with knocks in rapid succession.

You jump and you’re at the door before anyone else can even blink, nervously peeking through the blinds of the window, terrified.

You relax.

Papyrus.

He’s so energetic.

…cute.

You smile, you definitely like his energy, even if its volume is startling.

You're… not so sure how you feel about all those people with him.

You don’t know any of them except for Sans.

And… well, Even if you like his puns and joke texts… he still makes you weirdly nervous.

With the skeleton brothers, are three more monsters (wow! And to think you thought you’d never see a real live monster, now you’ve seen 4!).

A blue fish lady in mostly all black like you, except her shirt is bright red and so are the laces on her boots, just like the shade of her bright red hair, though her jacket, the boots, and jeans are black. she’s got an eye patch but her other eye glows frighteningly, and she has a power to her that’s _kind of_ terrifying. Beside her, a scaled reptile monster in a rather cute pink dress and cute flat shoes with warm looking leggings; she looks initially frightening, but… then kind of nervous and cute, but still scary. There’s the third monster, and standing at the monster’s side is a small human. They’re both dressed in stripped sweaters, though the monster has no arms and is solidly yellow, with darker yellow stripes on his armless sweater. There is also a pink and black robot, but does that qualify as a monster? You find yourself intimidated by how pretty it looks, even at this distance. The human child has a pink and blue stripped sweater, a thick looking blue jacket that looks kind of like the one Sans is wearing, and pants of the same color. They appear to be signing something to the other child, but you miss it when you’re startled by Papyrus, whom starts knocking again excitedly.

Your siblings are fluttering down the stars, having caught up, as you pull away from the window; you’re pretty sure Sans saw you peeking. Terry goes to the door in your stead, and you nod an okay when he looks at you for permission, as you sinking backward into a corner. With your approval, he opens it.

“SECOND OLDEST HUMAN! YOU ARE LOOKING MARVELOUSLY COLORFUL, JUST LIKE YESTERDAY!”

Terry grins huge. He loves rainbows. Papyrus has immediately made him happy, and you as well, as you are immediately smiling. “Thanks, Pap!” more carefully, and with a glance to you in your corner, he adds carefully, “You didn’t tell us you were bringing a lot of people, dude.”

You can’t see Papyrus at this angle, but you can feel it more than see it as he is startled by that. “I DID NOT? OH-” he must understand you very well, even after only being a couple hours in your presence, because you can feel his nerves from here as he asks, “I HAVE NOT MESSED UP, HAVE I? I DO NOT MEAN TO INTIMIDATE YOUR OLDEST SIBLING WITH SO MANY PEOPLE.”

“Its fine, its fine.” Terry says after getting a smile from you as an assurance. “But how about you all step in for a minute, so she has a couple minutes to, uh, try and get… _accustomed_. Before we try and leave or anything.”

“EXCELLENT, TERRY THE COLORFUL HUMAN, A GREAT IDEA! DO NOT WORRY, MY FRIENDS ARE VERY KIND!”

There’s some shuffling about and Terry steps to the side, smiling welcomingly. You watch them from your dark corner, as one at a time, the monsters seep inside. Papyrus comes in last, closing the door for them.

“WHERE IS THE OLDEST ONE, I WOULD MUCH LIKE TO APPOLOGIZE FOR BRINGING SO MANY PEOPLE UNANOUNCED.” He looks worriedly to Terry.

Terry gestures in your direction quietly with his gloved hands, and Papyrus follows the gesture with his empty eye sockets. He spots you, standing stiff in the dark corner. You offer him a frightened smile, but he seems to understand you need space, somehow. He smiles back, doesn’t come closer, and follows his other friends who are now talking in the living room. You hear your siblings amongst them.

You sneak up to the doorway, peeking inside.

“MAVERICK, MY SMALL FRIEND, YOU ARE LOOKING INCREDIBLY NICE TODAY!”

“M’ Mabel today.” She says proudly.

Papyrus is a sweet heart and does not hesitate, as most would. It makes you smile again. “YOU LOOK PRETTY, MABEL! PLEASE, MEET MY WONDERFUL FRIEND METTATON, AS YESTERDAY YOU EXPRESSED HOW MUCH YOU LIKE FASHION AND METTATON IS THE MOST FASHIONABLE STAR ABOVE AND BELOW THE GROUND.”

“You flatter, darling.” The robot is smiling kindly. “And you are certainly a pretty little thing, Mabel was it? So cute, I think you’d make a great accessory.”

You’ve never seen your little sibling quite so speechless before. She looks to Papyrus, _awed_. “THAT’S METTATON, PAPY! HE’S ON TV!” she whisper screams at the taller skeleton.

Mabel looks like she may faint.

Your head turns and you see Sans had found Aloe. That makes you uncomfortable very quickly, because Aloe is… well… but after a second you calm, Because Sans is holding the human child Papyrus brought with him by the hand, and his intimidation factor seems to have drained out of his usual aura to be replaced with a weird sense of carefulness with the children. “Ginger, this here is Frisk. Frisk, this squirt’s Aloe. Pap captured them the other day. I have a feeling you’ll both get along.”

Aloe is wearing their black mask and it covers most of her face, nose and cheek bones down. But neither Sans nor Frisk seem fazed. Aloe looks afraid, looking a little frantically between Sans and the human; Aloe is almost as socially anxious as you. But Frisk smiles gently and signs. **“Papyrus says you fell. I fell a long way once, too.”**

Aloe is intrigued by the fluency of Frisk’s hand motions. Very few kids their age can sign. **“Falling is scary.** ” she responds hesitantly.

 **“Lucky pap caught you. I landed on my face.”** Frisk smiled big, and they’re missing a tooth, and Aloe lets out a quiet giggle.

Frisk proceeds to motion to the yellow friend of theirs as Sans pats them on the head and waves, wandering off now that his introduction job as apparently been completed. You get the strange feeling that he is very satisfied that Aloe and Frisk have accepted one another. **“This is my best friend. He can understand us, but he can’t sign with us.** ”

“Cause’ I got no arms!” He grins toothily and bounces in a chipper mood.

Aloe smiles excitedly. **“My name is Aloe!”**

You smile. Aloe has made friends. That’s a lot better than you ever had.

Fahima has found herself wedged between the arm of the couch and Alphys. Fahima had brought their text book to read for when Papyrus showed up, but it seems it was being neglected, because Alphys had struck up a conversation excitedly about the robotics when the scaly monster had noticed the text book. The fish woman, someone called her Undyne at some point, had wandered from Alphys to Terry; your brother seemed to respond positively to whatever Undyne was saying, but then she picked him up and he gushed excitedly as Undyne flexed and held him over her head with ease.

These monsters were fun to watch, and your siblings looked very happy.

“You enjoying the view?”

You _sling the hell away_ when Sans is suddenly at your side.

You wheeze where you press your back to the wall and stare at the grinning skeleton.

“SANS, I TOLD YOU SPECIFICALLY NOT TO DO THAT TO THEM!”

“That’s why I had to do it, bro.”

“THAT IS JUST MEAN, SANS.”

“Aw, that hurts, bro. cuts me right to the bone. I'm just tryin’ to cheer the human up. Don’cha know I'm a boneified _comic?_ ”

You try not to grin, but a smile still clicks on your face as you try and steady your rapid breathing.

“THAT WAS DUMB!”

“But they smiled.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT WASN’T DUMB!”

“Heh. Whatever you say, bro. No skin off my bones.”

“SANS.”

But you’re covering your face and shaking with giggles, and Sans, feeling his job was done yet again, makes his way off to who knows where, leaving Papyrus pouting. You get the strange feeling of satisfaction from the shorter skeleton as Sans leaves, just like after Aloe and Frisk hit it off.

Papyrus moves to you, apparently able to tell you’ve gotten the space you needed, and grins again. “HELLO, HUMAN!”

You smile nervously, and give him a little wave.

“I'M GOING TO APOLLOGIZE AGAIN, FOR FORGETTING TO MENTION MY FRIENDS!”

“ **Please don’t.** ” before he can rebuke you for refusing more apologies, you continue, “ **No, no, really, its… it’s okay. They all look. real happy.** ”

You glace through the door and your expression softens again. Your family was all quirky and bent, but… the monsters didn’t seem to think so. Your siblings had a hard time with school and friends… this was… good. Alphys and Fahima were exchanging phones and numbers and Mettaton was giving Mabel pointers about eye liner and Aloe was having a strong conversation with someone- _two_ someone’s their age who could understand their signing and Terry had stars in his eyes as Undyne flexed for him.

 **“thank you.”** you sign gently and warmly to Papyrus, watching them as they interacted, warmed to the core.

“HUMAN YOU ARE SO KIND!” Papyrus’ voice reached top volumes, even for him, catching everyone’s attention curiously, including yours; you look up and his eyes are full of heartfelt orange tears.

You let a meek, but just as heartfelt smile float on your face before noticing a lot of eyes have drifted to you, and you pale, shuttering, and shrink back quickly behind your protective wall.

“HEYYY THERE SHORT STUFF!”

You almost scream when fish lady is there, suddenly in your face.

“You’re the one Pap’s tryin to cheer up, aincha?”

You just look at her in wide-eyed silence, particularly terrified. She ignores it.

“Well I’m _Undyne_ , toughest monster from the underground.” She gives you a tough thumbs up with an unnecessary flex. “Don’t make pap cry.” She threatened in a laughable kind of way that, actually, wasn’t meant to be that much of a threat. It was still frightening, and your terrified mind didn’t connect it to a joke like most people would be able to, and took it as a serious, sound threat.

“UNDYNE, DO NOT THREATEN THE HUMAN.” Papyrus puffed; he knew it was a joke and wasn’t taking it seriously.

“Can’t stop me, Papyrus.”

“I CAN AND I WILL!”

“watcha gunna do. You wanna wrestle, pappy? You wanna _go_?”

“I WANNA GO!”

“War it is, then!”

“Please don’t fight in the house, darlings, that’s uncivilized.” Mettaton puts forward.

“I'M ROOTING FOR YOU UNDYNE!” It would seem Terry is a member of Undyne’s fan club and screams his encouragement.

“ **Please don’t fight** ” you sign meekly, feeling a dreadful panic welling in your gut and you don’t know what to do, tense.

Would this be like when your mother and father fought? When she’d slap him and he’d push her and they’d yell? Were they really going to fight? And if you tried to stop it, would they turn on you?

You’re inching for the stairs slowly, like a frightened animal, but you bump into something- you shouldn’t have because you know where the furniture is in your house? And there shouldn’t be something in the middle of the hall.

You see it’s Sans and this time when you jump it’s not nearly as funny and you let out a garbled noise that makes those in the room who’d never heard you before turn and squint or stare, Undyne in pre-fight mode included, all startled or freaked out in some manner.

“HUMAN-” Papyrus starts when he quickly notes the building panic and you see your siblings tense, and a few call to you quickly, because they can see your panic too. Sans is still there and one hand reaches toward you to- to do what, you’re not sure, but you can tell he sees your panic, too, but his movement makes you jump and you stumble, almost falling, backing away quickly.

Your eyes dart around and at every person in the room and another sound squeezes out of you, hard and rough. Humiliation etches your face alongside fear and they’re all still staring and gapping and--

The nearest room is your sanctuary and you race to the first door you can see- locking yourself into a closet and keening quietly as you force your way into the back under the bottom shelf, despite a few loud calls of your name.

You crawl in as far as you can on the cool hardwood and curl up tight, squeezing your eyes closed and rubbing your arms vigorously.

After a few moments, it goes quiet outside, hushed. You done move, beyond rubbing your pals furiously over the fabric of your clothes.

There’s a quiet knock on the door.

You don’t say or do anything. Nothing is said.

A soft tap. A couple more. It comes in a rhythm you recognize.

You taught Aloe morse code, and they’re the only one in your family who knows how to use it.

You always loved languages and codes. Aloe liked to learn just about anything you’d teach them. And languages that weren’t spoken were useful to a couple of mutes, so it was something you had elected to teach her.

You listened.

T-H-E-Y S-A-I-D S-O-R-R-Y

F-A-M-I-L-Y I-S W-O-R-R-I-E-D

P-A-P S-A-I-D S-O-R-RY

S-A-N-S T-O-O

T-H-E-Y W-I-L-L G-O H-O-M-E I-F Y-O-U W-A-N-T

It’s quiet.

You see Aloe’s small shadow waiting, as it blocks light from creeping into the room through the crack between door and floor.

You don’t want to ruin this for your family. But… you… you can’t do this. It’s too many people, and they all looked at you like- like- and you- you can’t, but you don’t want to take this chance away from everyone. They don’t make friends often.

You press your hot face to the dusty, but cold hard wood, and rub it with your fingers in slow, square motions, up left down right up left down right.

You just need to calm down. Right? Right. Up left down right. Right.

You knock carefully, passing along a message in the same language.

T-E-A

Tea calms the nerves. Tea is good.

A gentle response, O-K.

There’s a pattern of shoes as Aloe hurried away.

Its quiet until the fridge opens loudly in the loaded silence that has engulfed your house, and you worry for a moment if Aloe will try and get the tea themselves, because they are a very weak, fragile child and won’t be able to lift the heavy two-gallon jug. But then you hear Papyrus boom, “LET ME HELP YOU WITH THAT, SMALL ONE.” And you’re content.

Two sets of feet come back. They wait outside, knowing you know they’re there, giving you all the time you need.

You shift slowly and climb out of your little nest, patting yourself carefully to remove dust molecules and fix your clothes. You run your hands through your hair wildly, a calming motion, then rub your arms, then the walls, and then you’re okay enough to touch the door handle.

The door creeks as you open it. Papyrus smiles worriedly, holding a cup of tea; Aloe is at his side and their tagged along by a hand holding the edge of his cape scarf. She pulls down her mask with a finger to mimic Papyrus’ expression, a tiny worried smile marked with her cracked and scarred lips.

You smile back and it looks dark with heavy emotion. You sink to Aloe’s level to kiss their forehead. You quietly take the cup of tea from Papyrus’ offering hands, but you’re so humiliated, you can’t bring yourself to speak your customary tea mumbles, the part of the tea that calms you down most. They both notice and they both look more worried than before.

You smile weakly. **“Sorry.”**

Papyrus is too worried to reprimand it, because after all, he’s here to say sorry and now you’re the one saying it. “DO YOU WANT US TO GO HOME?” even to him, his voice sounds a little too loud in this strained silence. “I HAD PLANNED TO TAKE YOU AND YOUR FAMILY OUT TO HAVE FUN IN TOWN, I EVEN BROUGHT MANY OF MY FRIENDS FROM VARYING AGE GROUPS TO HAVE WHAT MY HANDBOOK CALLS A VERY BIG AND VERY FUN ‘GROUP DATE’, BUT I AM WORRIED YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE THE TOWN IDEA VERY MUCH NOW.”

 **“I”** you start, and stop, hesitating. “ **I don’t leave home a lot.”** The group date idea sounded cute… and kind of fun… but he was kind of right.

Aloe adds silently, and catches Papyrus’ attention, with their signed correction of **“never.”**

Papyrus nodded slowly.

 **“Will you…”** another hesitation, but you press forward. **“I don’t want to ruin this, Papyrus. They were all excited. Will you take them out with your friends? My family doesn’t… get a lot of friends very often.”**

Papyrus looks unhappy. “THAT…” he reconsiders himself, with a glance down the hall. They can definitely all hear him in this silence, especially considering how loud he talks. He switches out to sign language himself. **“That would leave you here alone.”**

You give him a crooked smile. “ **That happens all the time. It’s okay.”**

Papyrus’ frown etched deeper. “ **Your brothers and sisters will not want to go if it leaves you here alone. After this happened.** ”

Aloe nods in agreement, but then stops and sighs, and Papyrus frowns down at her. You smile knowingly, and respond, **“They will because I want them too. And because they can’t stand being lonely here anymore.”**

 **“Are you sure you want to be left home alone?”** Papyrus seemed very reluctant as he watched your hand run through your hair in a twitchy manor, as you sipped your tea.

“ **The silence is peaceful.”** That’s a lie. The silence is agonizing when they all are at school and your parents aren’t here. It means your world is empty. You even prefer the yelling of your father to the utter silence when you’re left in your empty room alone for the whole day, almost every day, completely alone. _You hate the silence._ Maybe that’s why you like how loudly Papyrus yells when he talks?

But Papyrus takes it at face value. He nods. He offers a final few signs, **“Sans didn’t mean to scare you that last time, he is sorry. And you do not need to worry about Undyne and I, we jostle about, but we wouldn’t have hurt anyone. She is also sorry.”**

You smile and nod, but its painfully fake and the three of you all know it.

Papyrus hesitates when he starts to turn and leave. **“I still like your sounds, human.”** he signs quickly, and turns around and disappears through the door with a bounce in his step that he hadn’t had a second ago and a tone brighter than he had expressed moments ago, rallying everyone to leave with his usual yells.

He’s made you turn a rather unhealthy shade of red again. Huh.

You crouch to your knees, and kiss Aloe on the forehead and tuck their curls affectionately as people start filtering out. They shoot you glances as they enter the hallway to head for the door, but you ignore them as best you can, trying to look… calm and okay for your siblings.

Aloe hugs you tight and you smile. You sign to them a good bye, and add **“enjoy the world as you can, love.”** With a warm smile.

They nod and as they hurry to catch up with the other children, you look up and see the skeleton brothers both standing there, last to leave. Papyrus is watching everyone as they leave and his face is lightly dusted orange. You’re still red from the compliment but the reminder of it makes you flush dark again.

You notice Sans is staring at you, and look back. He signs at you. **“sorry.”** It’s short and lazy, but his hand movements are neat and precise.

He still freaks you out- maybe even more than before, now, what with his weird disappearing and reappearing- but you give him a smile. It’s genuine, even though it’s still sad. He mimics you by giving you a _real_ smile as opposed to his normal one, and you watch his smile fall and it looks tired and unhappy, despite that it’s still a smile, but it’s not a fake expression. You feel your fear evaporate in seconds. He doesn’t freak you out as bad- almost not at all, now.

The brothers are the last to leave, Papyrus calling to you a farewell with a promise to guard your family with his life, and Sans waving lazily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huh man this was surprisingly difficult to write 
> 
> im way more invested in a series i havent posted yet so focusing on other stories is painful
> 
> im contemplating posting this other work based on the Omega-verse idea i saw in tumblr and im LOVING it


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What says the man of another realm to the newcomer who questions the ways of the realm itself? Humans do not expect different than what they know, man kind knows no way other than what they expect. The way things are are the way things are, and when the whole world collides with another, man kind falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the hidden world is finally exposed

You smile every time your siblings bring up the adventure with the monsters.

At first, you know they’re avoiding talking about it. The whole day passes after they got home from their ‘group date’ and it was well into the next day afterward before they even mentioned it, Maverick (once more back from being Mabel) having been the one to slip and had told you about how Undyne had suplexed a car in the parking lot at a place called Grillby’s.

They soon saw how much you were happy and excited by the story, though, and the tales came at all waking moments when your mother and father weren’t around.  There were so many stories, and you loved listening about every minute of their excited adventure.

The monsters’ phone numbers had even ended up in Terry and Fahima’s phones. Fahima now chattered away avidly with Alphys, who was always on her phone or on a social media site that, with Alphys and Papyrus’ encouragement, Fahima had joined.

Fahima had more jokes than ever to read at Comic Sans Hour before bed, as CoolSkeleton95 –Papyrus’ handle on this site and all sites, and apparently he was actually quite popular- had been haunted by a supposed dastardly anon who just popped in to crack jokes. You didn’t know which was funnier; the fact that Sans was trolling his brother or that Papyrus hadn’t put two and two together and figured out it was Sans.

Apparently you were a sucker for lots of bad puns because your siblings found it hilarious watching you crack up half way through your now nightly hour of Sans’ Jokes. When he’d gotten less scary, he’d gotten infinitely more funny, and you’d thought he was already pretty funny before.

Papyrus showed up again, entirely unannounced (you thanked your lucky stars that your parents had left home for work early that morning, else they would have been here when he started knocking wildly on the front door), and this time with Alphys. Apparently, they came bearing an apology gift. Papyrus was very certain to say that no, this was not _him_ apologizing, but everyone else. He would _still_ find a way to make it up to you.

Alphys had a handmade phone. And it was for you.

The lizard woman had stuttered the whole time- you decided she was the least scary of all the monsters Papyrus had brought- and had been extremely embarrassed to hand it to you, let alone speak to you. You’d stood there in your living room, wrapped in a blanket with your siblings watching from the top of the stairs (they thought you hadn’t noticed them spying, those goofs), struck speechless… er… well, _more_ speechless.

It took you a minute to even have the ability to respond, and several to figure out what you wanted to say as you stared at the cellular device she’d deposited in you hand.

You… you offered to make her tea. ‘offered’ more like ‘decided’. Papyrus had grinned. Tea was something very important to you, he explained to Alphys.

He seemed disappointed you didn’t make your ‘weird noises’ as you served, and you heard your siblings upstairs whispering worriedly about it with your weirdly attuned hawk-hearing, but you offered a smile to Alphys, and felt your face heat up when you gave Papyrus his cup; you pulled away from him very quickly too, covering your face and wringing your hands and the blanket furiously. You’d probably faint if you made any more sounds in front of Papyrus after he had complemented them a _second_ time.

You could hear them whispering at the stairs wildly and could feel both Alphys and Papyrus’ confusion, but found safety in the kitchen until you could cool your head. Twice now he had complimented you and even looked disappointed at the lack of your… _sounds_.

He was too kind. His kindness was becoming lethal.

You eventually chilled out enough to return to the room, still a vague pink shade in embarrassment, and retrieved your own tea before sitting on the floor and clicked open your first phone with awe to examine it.

Papyrus and Alphys both looked quite proud that their gift was a success.

It was loaded with all the numbers of the monsters, and those of your oldest younger siblings’ cell phone, too. You quirked a brow at one of the contacts in the list as you went through, reading down the list. You signed the question asking who ‘bone daddy’ was to the tall skeleton and lizard woman.

Papyrus’ groan told you all you needed to know. Alphys was smiling.

Of course, it was Sans. He _would_ set his ID to bone daddy, of course.

You blinked with stars in your eyes as you sent your first text on your first phone. You sent Sans: “ _this is a Sans-sational contact ID._ ”

You’d sent it with gleaming enthusiasm, and minutes clicked by on your phone’s clock. You sagged in disappointment, which confused Alphys and Papyrus,.

Maybe it was a bad idea to text him. Bad. You muttered and signed the words ‘bad idea’ over and over, shaking your head.

A surprise knock at your door, then it opened of its own accord.

A short skeleton walked in, familiar as ever. He wheezed once as he looked around, found you poking out from around couch, gave you a thumbs up and a wicked smile, and then left.

“Uh.” Alphys was confused.

You received a text soon after.

“ _jeeze I was not expecting a pun out of you kid, that got me good. Right in the funny bone. You’re cool.”_

You beamed very bright, and it was a surprising expression for both Papyrus and Alphys. They’d never seen such pride on your face. You looked up at them. **“He said I'm _cool_.** ”

Alphys smiled kindly and Papyrus laughed.

Eventually your siblings got tired of pretending they were good at eavesdropping and Aloe came down the stairs first, charging excitedly to Papyrus and attaching happily, content to sit there on the couch with their cheek pressed to his ribs. Maverick came squeaking down immediately after and also attached to Papyrus.

The Skeleton could not look more happy to be so popular with tiny humans.

Terry came down with more ‘practiced’ attempts to seem nonchalant like he’d just noticed they were here, and Fahima bounded down with an excited expression to see her fellow robotics friend, and the two were quick to descend into chatter about an anime - they called it Ouran Host Club- that Alphys had apparently introduced Fahima to.

You let out a low, content hum before you could stop it, and, no, you were wrong, Papyrus _could_ look more happy. Alphys blinked in surprise but then offered another smile. You blushed and buried into your blanket.

They hung around for a few hours and from your corner, you were content to listen to their conversation. Papyrus occasionally spoke up to you directly, and you would carefully consider and sign your response, even if they were menial, easy questions. But he was patient and consistent to include you, and it was a weird feeling, being welcomed into conversation. It was… a good feeling.

He went home with Alphys after about two hours… and you followed to the porch, and with a nervous look around, down the front porch steps, waving along with your siblings.

He was nice. Alphys was, too.

You liked them.

It had been a good day.

But… not a good night.

You had misjudged your father and thought he had already gone to bed when you’d all gathered to Comic Sans Hour. He hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Hearing everyone’s laughing, and your _disgusting inhuman noises_ , kept him awake. He must have been particularly mad today from work.

He didn’t go easy. He was very mad. There wasn’t time to hide, and as much as they wanted to help, they were too afraid to get involved and scattered, watching him in his screaming fit.

Broken brats weren’t a part of _his_ family. If you weren’t an abomination and a plague to the good men of the world, he’s throw you into the streets; but then people would _see_ you, so he was forced to take care of you. Useless good for nothing.

Your lack of response- how should you respond? How could you respond? How would you respond?- broke his final straw for the night. He’s already slapped you twice and pushed you into the wall, but when he _clicked, snapped_ , you found that you couldn’t breathe, a strong hand squeezing your throat closed.

_Why aren’t you dead yet?!_

He hit you hard and your chest reeled in pain.

_Why is a broken one like you still alive, why haven’t you died off yet?!_

And another and it felt like an explosion under the skin.

_You STAIN, a broken branch in a family tree, just DIE ALREADY!_

The others screamed and Terry was trying to pull Terrance off as your vision began to turn white in spots, tunneling and suffocating from lack of air, and your mother was probably still passed out drunk, and Maverick was pounding useless fists on Terrance to get his arm to loosen his chock hold on you, and Fahima was holding Aloe and trying to put the silently wailing child under the bed, because if Aloe got close, your father would hurt her like he did you, because Aloe was broken, too.

Terrance, the one called _father_ , had enough of the interference and dropped you. He rounded on Maverick.

Dizzy and still lacking in air, you moved and got in the way of the war path aimed at your younger sibling without hesitation, and the back hand of knuckles let his wedding ring slice open your cheek, deep.

You stared your father down, tears on your face, and puffy from approaching asphyxiation.

The silence in the room was filled with your own determination.

You wouldn’t let him hurt your brothers and sisters and your more fluid sibling.

_Go rot, you worthless piece of shit._

He left you there with another solid punch that busted your lip and those final words.

The day had been nice.

The night had not.

You would have been okay with that, had Papyrus not come back over with his brother in tow, 30 minutes after your parents had left for work the next morning.

You’d just woken up and the room was empty; you’d slept under the bed for safety reasons, and it was hot since it was right next to the heater, so you’d opted for a tank top and shorts as opposed to the normal baggy clothes.

No one saw you and gave you a warning that there were two skeletons on the couch when you stumbled down the stairs and into the livingroom, exhausted. Blood still stained your chin, the new angry bruises in the shape of a hand on your neck and blooming big bright and purple over your cheek would have been obvious enough; but in the slim amount of clothing, there was full display of bars, scars, bruises, wounds; old, new, healing, fresh, scarred.

Everyone in the room was silent and stared; you felt the stares, but assumed it was only your siblings staring after experiencing it first hand like they always did on bad nights, and continued your route to the kitchen to try and wash this blood off your face. But the shaken voice of Papyrus calling your name and not a simple ‘human’ knocked you off guard.

You swung around.

Sure enough, amongst your shocked into silence siblings, the wide stares of Papyrus and Sans from the couch.

A wheezing escaped your teeth and its followed by a strangle of mixed noises that you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried- if you could comprehend trying, which you couldn’t. It’s a stream of unintelligible gibberish and breaks in your voice and noises most people wouldn’t know how to even begin to make. Like you’re trying to explain yourself, all of _this_ away, in some extraterrestrial language.

Your hands shake wildly and you try to sign and its sloppy and even you’re not sure what you’re saying, **“I fell and tripped and there- there was- I just- stairs- door- fine- fine- tripped- and-”** and there is no way to explain away the fingers and palms bruised like neon signs on your neck, or the aged old scar etched into your stomach from years ago that read “B R O K E N” in jagged lines where he’d carved it into you. Those aren’t _I fell_ or _slipped down the stairs_ kind of wounds.

You cover the word marred across your belly and your garbled words fail into whipped whines and cries, but the only direction is forward and you can’t _move_ forward because it’s toward them and you backed into your corner by accident. Your fingers find your hair and run through it haphazardly, but you can’t find comfort from it, they twist and rub one another, but there’s no comfort in that either, so you hug yourself tight and go utterly silent and still, hunched on your knees and doubled over, and you don’t move, you don’t even think your breathing.

You thought you’d flinch when a hand touched you but you didn’t. You still didn’t move. You know its Fatima by the darkness of her skin tone- she’s the darkest of everyone in your family- and she’s trying to help you up, so you let her, refusing to look up from the floor. You can’t hear too much but you can hear Papyrus’ loud voice but you still don’t know what he’s saying, and everyone else is talking one after another at him, and your sister guides you into your room. Aloe curls up with you on your bed and you hold her close.

As you hold her, you listen and sound returns to making actual sense after a few moments.

They’re all yelling. Terry insists you’ll be okay. Papyrus is yelling and demanding information. Maverick is crying and yelling at his brother that you got hurt because of him. Fahima had returned downstairs and is trying to get Papyrus to calm down but refusing to answer his questions.

Aloe has good hearing, too. You know they hear it all down stairs. You hold her close, and mumble frantic blurbs of sound, and it’s not the kind cooing that calms her like normal, it’s too anxious, and Aloe clings tighter out of fear for you.

“Kid.”

You flinch and curl and whimper and you feel Aloe shift and hug you; their rumbling like the low hum of a cat; Aloe can’t produce sound, but they vibrate like their trying to talk, and its soothing.

“…Kiddo.” It’s more careful, slower, softer. You hear the next bed over dip where he’s sat, Terry’s bed, the mattresses giving a soft creak. “Let’s… talk, you and me.”

You bury deeper into Aloe.

Sans makes a sound that gives off an ‘I understand’ kind of thing. “We’re friends here, kid. I'm not one of your sibs, so you don’t have to worry about protecting me, right? I know you know I'm not going to go telling anyone unless it’s important, too. We’re friends here. Who better to talk to?”

He makes a lot of sense.

You know he’s been watching you. But you didn’t think he could understand you so quick. He’s like Papyrus in that way.

It’s hard to sign with your head buried in your younger sister, but you manage. **“ive never had a friend in my life, Sans. Don’t know how this works. Never had a friend.”**

“That sounds like a good place to start.” Sans pushes. “Tell me, Kid, why is that?”

You’re silent, and your hands are still, for a while. You listen to the arguing for a moment. Its still going strong. **“not allowed. Outside. Friends. People. Not allowed.”**

“Why’s that?”

He doesn’t ask dumb questions. He doesn’t ask ‘who’ because he has his guess; after all, while Pap takes things at face value and isn’t suspicious, Sans is very suspicious. You know he notices its weird how you keep the times Papyrus comes over specific to the average work hours for adults, and that this place has beer bottles sitting around in some places, and that there are children but never their parents here, even if you are in your 20s and could be the legal guardian.

He wants to know why, so you answer him. **“I'm broken.”**

“oh?”

 **“yeah.”** you sign back stiffly and almost in irritation. Obviously there were things wrong with you. it was clear as crystal.

“So what.”

You glance up around Aloe. Your brow furrows. But he sees he’s caught you off guard, and his grin finds a little strength despite how exhausted he looks.

“You know, I’m _broken_ too.” He shrugs. “My Therapist guy, calls is _Clinical Depression._ ” He shrugged again.

He doesn’t let you respond, and continues. “Pappy’s broken too, you know.” He points upward in a waving motion, a loose ‘matter-of-fact’ pose, with a crooked grin. “He’s a lot like you, kid.”

You sit up, scoffing. You and Papyrus are _very different._ Aloe shifts and you hold her more carefully with a soft croon, and she settles, pressing her face into your belly and hugging tight.

“He does that, for starters.” Sans pointed at you sharply.

You blink. What? Does what?

“The noise thing. The babbling.” Sans rolls his wrist, leaning back. “Granted, you do it more, a lot more, and you don’t talk otherwise. But he does it. When he’s sad, or mad, and I mean really sad or mad. Especially when it’s over someone else. He used to do it a lot when he was about that one’s size.” He motioned to Aloe. “lots of noises and sounds.”

“The stimming is another thing.” You don’t know what that word means, and he notices, so he elaborates. “The rubbing; when you get the blankets and you rub them. The pressing your face to the floor thing, running your hands through your hair, the feeling of the walls on your back, rubbing your hands together and rubbing the wall. It feels good. Feels calming. keeps you grounded.” You nod, slowly. That’s… a fairly good way to put it. Sans smirks at you. “Yeah, that’s how Pap describes it to me. He stims with his gloves and his cape. The texture is calming, he says.”

“There’s the affiliates with the specific things, of course. You both got the nit picking organizer traits. Gotta make everything neat and clean. You both got your little ‘favorite’ things; Papyrus with his battle body costume, you and your tea. You seem to have gone opposite directions in the noise spectrum; Pap can’t control his vocal volume and goes loud. You go low and quiet. Poor Linguistic Development it also not uncommon in your category, though it seems Paps didn’t take that path, he can talk fine.”

Its quiet for a second, and your trying to imagine that you and Papyrus are the same, but… that just seems weird.

“You ever hear the term Autistic, kid?” He asked smoothly after letting you think on it for a while.

You pause. You nod; you’ve heard of it before, but you’re not sure what it means exactly.

“Well, with my amateur hour diagnosis, id say you’re on the same boat as Pap. You’re Autistic. Not broken.” He paused and squinted. “Maybe give or take some PTSD and an anxiety disorder or two, but, yeah, Autistic.”

You look down at Aloe. She’s looking back up at you. You wonder if she’s autistic, too. You don’t know. She’s too young to be sure. You cradle her, at a loss. 

“Anyway- the point was, who cares? Papyrus is Autistic and I'm a Depressed bag of bones, and Frisk’s got PTSD, and Alphys is depressed and anxious and Undyne’s got a mood disorder, and the list goes on of twisted friends on my side.” He gives you a weird grin. “Why aren’t _you_ allowed out into the world if we’re _all_ special?”

Your hand moves to your stomach. You can feel the word etched in your skin. Sans remembers seeing it, and doesn’t comment. **“Because I'm broken.”** Is all you can say.

He shakes his skull, which surprised you to a little.

“Nah, kid. It’s either because you’re too obedient for your own health, or you're scared. My guess is both.” He waved his hand again. “you gotta get on your feet, kid. The worlds a big place. Your little world sucks in comparison. Take it from a guy who’s been trapped in a lesser world for his entire life and just got up here a year ago.” He pointed out the window. “This place is big, and it’s worth seeing.”

Sans stretched when there was silence, getting to his feet.

“Well. It’s your call. I’ve got a meeting with my own mute, Frisk-o’s in the process of leaving the custody of their own abusive parents.” Sans says it pointedly. “You ever think about it, you know, getting the fuck outta here; call the bone daddy. This skellintons’ got a handle on this process by this point, I’ll give ya hand if you ever do.”

He paused at the door. “Also… I'm gunna be able to get pap to home for the day, but tomorrow, you’re outta luck, he’ll be here and demanding.” He made a weird, low, suggestive chuckle as he added, “he’s more stuck on you then you think, kid.”

He finger gunned himself out of the room like this had been a casual conversation.

Who the hell even was Sans and what on earth is he even doing with his life?

The argument dies unexpectedly downstairs, and you don’t know what Sans did, but your siblings said Sans just waltz down, gabbed Papyrus’ hand and then they both vanished. You don’t question it. Sans is weird as hell.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There in lies the question, old friend. at which point is the care of the child and the care of an adult standard? should we protect only the child, when it is the child who is still abused and harbored, that shall grow into the adult that is still abused and harbored? at the change of youth to adult, has anything REALLY changed at all when on the last day of youth, they were beaten, and one the first day of their age, they are beaten? Child Abuse is mere the same as any abuse, but keep in mind, we only capitalize the one, and the other is seen as not as so terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are happy...

Sans was, inherently, wrong.

Papyrus did not come to your house tomorrow, no matter how long the hours ticked by at the span of feeling days and filled with dread for you, giving him _plenty_ of time.

Was it wrong for you to have expected he would? Had you expected he cared that much? Why would you expect that much of him? He was basically a stranger, you’d only known him a couple weeks, and seen him 8 times at the max through little visits here and there and in between, right?

It was wrong to expect him to come.

It was wrong to have held a strange hope that he cared.

While Papyrus had taken to calling Terry, and sending you funny little stories about what he was doing in texts, those stopped coming, too. Sans still sent jokes to Fahima- you wonder if he knew how much you all liked his jokes?- but CoolSkeleton95’s blog had gone inactive, so Comic Sans Hour went back to Comic Sans Time, because they didn’t have enough jokes with just the single he sent every other day.

You waited the whole day. But no one came.

It felt like the world was ending. Like the pains were even stronger. Like the beatings were angrier, the screaming louder. Like the laughter from the bi-daily joke was shorter. Like the hours of being alone as your siblings started going back to school got longer. Like everything just. Got _worse_.

You waited the day after that. But no one came.

The phantom vibrations of your phone tricked you into thinking it had received a text message, but you never did. You waited and waited, but not only did Papyrus never text you or call you or come, but neither did Sans. You felt worse and worse every time you checked your phone, the clock moved so slow, alone in this house, your world was empty.

You waited the third day, huddled by the downstairs window, watching, waiting. But no one came.

It was wrong to feel abandoned.

It was wrong to have expectations.

It was wrong to have hopes.

And it was very, very wrong to get so excited on the fourth day. So hopeful when you heard a knock at your door.

Stuffed into a black hoodie and sweat pants, you grabbed Fahima’s black scarf from her closet and quickly covered your still bruised neck.

The others were gone, again. School. It was… lonelier than you remembered, lonelier than ever, worse than ever, but it was okay.

_The silence is peaceful._

Now you even lied to yourself.

You run down the stairs. You slide to the window, pulling the wrapped scarf up over your face to hide a busted lip and a new gash from two days ago on the left side of your chin and the cut on your right cheek.

Its.

Not Papyrus.

It’s a sixth sense, really, that tells you the woman on the porch is a social worker. She’s got a clip board, and she’s dressed like she’s here on a full out business meeting with CEOs.

You’re scared, instinctually. Your mind reels.

They called someone? they told someone? Would they betray you like that? Sans and Papyrus? Had they told? Was she here to take you away from your siblings? Was this because Sans and Papyrus had seen the evidence? Did seeing it make them call it in? They told someone? They told on you?

Your hands are shaking as you tear out your phone from the hoodie pocket and you aren’t practiced at texting, but you’re in such a hurry, the message is out almost immediately. “ _You told on me_ ”

It’s accusatory and rude but you’re so terrified that she’s standing outside your door and you can’t care. You’ve hit send before you can blink.

Sans responds with a short “ _nope_ ”, followed in the next few seconds by a second text, “ _why?_ ”

You figure the other recipient of the text message won’t respond, because he doesn’t care, right? She’s knocking a second time and you open another text to respond to Sans, but your wrong, because before you start to type you’ve got a text from Papyrus.

“ _I have not_ ” is all he says.

Your brow furrows and she’s still knocking and you let out a deep raspy breath because she calls inside on a loud business lady voice, your last name, the names of your parents, _your_ name.

Your fingers type hurriedly and you’re still in the group message feature so your next text is still for the both of them, and you’re scared, and you type fast and don’t read it over because you’re so freaked out. “ _someone had to tell someone told she’s here and she’s going to take me I'm scared someone had to of told_ ” and your hands are shaking and you measly add a second text “ _I'm scared and she’s going to take me away_ ” before either could write a response.

You curl up in your corner when she knocks a third time and shake. She says something but you aren’t listening, and when she tried to open the door- there’s dread in your blood when you realize it isn’t locked and they didn’t lock it when your parents left for work and she’s coming inside.

“HEY!” your heart does a fucking _summersault_ when you hear Papyrus’ voice. “HUMAN WOMAN, YOU CANNOT GO INTO SOMEONE’S HOUSE LIKE THAT!”

The woman in the suit turns, half way through the door, and you scramble backward further into your corner with heavy breathing.

“You know, bro’s right, it’s rude to invite yourself in like that when no one’s home.” Sans. But you know he knows you're home. You don’t care that he lies, though, because you want her to leave.

“Do the two of you know who lives here? Do you know this family?” she rattles off your last name again, referringly.

“BUT OF COURSE, WE ARE FAMILY FRIENDS!” Papyrus makes your chest hurt in a way that’s uncomfortable. You assume he’s lying, too. He’s made his way to the porch and you see part of his arm through the doorway, he’s placed himself there like a guard and the social worker has backed away from the door under his teacher-like scold, like she’s misbehaved.

“I have probable cause. We have information of certain activities may be taking place on this property, and I'm sorry, but you’re going to have to stand aside. I'm just looking for the parents, or for the younger adult guardian,” She reads your name off the clip board.

“NO ONE IS HOME, OBVIOUSLY!” Papyrus sounds indignant.

“You should try where the parents work if you really need to get in contact.” Sans rattles off the office your father works in, and the phone number of the place, and you’re surprised, because you definitely never told him all that. He’s very sneaky.

You assume he has something to do with how the brothers managed to _appear_ here so fast after your texts. He always does do the disappearing-reappearing act, after all.

Very sneaky, indeed.

They talk some more but you’re not paying so close attention, you’re trying to calm down by running one of your hands through your hair in a self-caring kind of motion, and your other is rubbing vigorously at your scarf’s cloth.

You almost don’t notice when she leaves and, after she’s gone and out of sight, they step in and close the door.

“She wasn’t here for you, pal.” Sans points out.

You look at him, still shaking and wide eyed.

“She says your little buddy Maverick had a break down at school yesterday.” He finishes.

You know about that; Maverick told you about crying in Reading class. You sink into yourself and whine. It’s because your father turned on him. You shouldn’t have let him try and help during that fight. Admittedly there’s not much you can do while being choked on the wall to stop him from helping… but…

You pull the scarf up over your lower face to hide the damage and force yourself up to your feet. You sign at them fluently. **“I'm sorry, very sorry. For accusing you, and for bothering you.”**

Papyrus huffs quietly, “DO NOT SAY SO, HUMAN! WE ARE YOUR FRIENDS, WE WOULD NOT TELL ON YOU… AND WE WILL DEFINITELY COME WHEN YOU ARE SCARED.”

You don’t say that you’ve been scared for the last 3 days. And you don’t say you were scared because he didn’t come around.

They both shift for the door to leave, and you look up quickly with a wince, because if they leave, it will be lonely again, and before you can realize you are, you’re signing, **“would you like to stay for tea?”**

You’re desperate. They know it.

They share looks and Papyrus looks… uncomfortable. Your hands retreat from the gesture and fist in the scarf where it’s fallen from around your neck and is loose against your chest. You look at the ground. Stupid, shouldn’t have asked, of course not, stupid.

You sign quickly, **“I'm sorry, you don’t have to, its fine.”** And press back into your corner.

“WE WOULD LOVE YOUR TEA, HUMAN FRIEND.” Papyrus says quickly in response, taking a step forward. “IT IS JUST THAT YOUR SCARF HAS FALLEN, AND, THAT LOOKS PAINFUL AND I WANT TO OFFER TO TRY AND HEAL YOU AND--- UH…” he fumbled back his step and mumbled something to Sans, who shoots him an amused grin.

You look at him, surprised. He notices, and his previous expression- embarrassed?- becomes proud. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM AN EXPERT AT HEALING MAGIC! I HAVE TO BE, BECAUSE MY BROTHER IS WEAK AND WILL DIE FROM MINOR INJURIES! WHERE WOULD THIS WORLD BE WITHOUT ME IF MY DEAR BROTHER DIED WITH HIS 1 HP?!”

“You’re a life saver, bro.”

“I KNOW IT! I HAVE ALREADY SAVED A SMALL CHILD AT THIS VERY PLACE, AFTER ALL!”

“Bro, you’re so cool.”

“INDEED!”

You’re smiling crookedly and you find that you have greatly missed hearing these two banter. They seem perfectly capable of filling their own silences- you imagine they have practice with this, considering their ‘favorite human’ Frisk is also a mute. They follow you into the living room and sit on opposite couches, and you listen, feeling warm, as their conversation switches off from Sans’ praise to Sans’ jokes, and Papyrus’ pride into indignation at said jokes.

You like Sans. He’s still kind of scary but he’s honest and he’s kind. He acts a lot like you in the adoring-sibling department. And his jokes are still hilarious; more so in person when he manages to fit them into sentences perfectly.

You like Papyrus. He’s kind, and even if he doesn’t care about you, he still came when you called. You still don’t think the two of you are the same type of _broken_ despite what Sans says, because he’s good and you aren’t, but you still like him.

You like the brothers. You like them being around. It’s… Safe.

When you return with tea, Sans’ smile is particularly calm when you hand him a cup with your soft mutters under your breath. You take Papyrus his, and your sounds become quieter and more uncertain. Papyrus seems worried by this, but you give him a nervous smile. You retrieve your own cup last, and surprise them by sitting on the couch beside Papyrus rather than in the corner or on the floor.

Their conversation gets a little more up-beat as they take your closer position as the strong positive that it is; they’re delighted. When their cups empty, and yours does too, their conversation lulls. Papyrus looks uncomfortable again.

You think maybe it’s you, and check to make sure your covered again, but when that’s not the problem, you think maybe your just too close, so you start to slide off the couch to retreat to the corner, or maybe refill the cups and then to the corner.

You catch Sans motioning at Papyrus with his head to you with a wink of encouragement, and as you stand, you hear Papyrus make a befuddled noise and turn to see him fidgeting with his own scarf.

Concerned, you tilt forward on your heals, as if to see around him for something that could be bothering him. Without thinking, a low blurb of sound comes out of your throat; how you would question your siblings.

Papyrus seems to interpret it with ease, and he straightens up and erases his uncertainty. “HUMAN, I AM GOING TO ASK YOU IF I CAN HEAL YOU.”

You blink, surprised.

He was serious about that?

He starts rambling before you can process the question, “I KNOW THAT PERHAPS YOU ARE NOT ONE FOR CLOSE CONTACT AND ALL BUT IF I COULD HEAL YOU I AM SURE YOU WOULD NOT FEEL SO MUCH PAIN, AND YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ARE IN A LOT OF PAIN, AND I SEE YOU ARE FAVORING YOUR SIDE TODAY AND I DON’T WANT TO PRY BUT I'M SURE IT HURTS, AND, UH, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, GREATEST HEALER SINCE HER MAJESTY TORIEL, WOULD FEEL REMISS IF I DID NOT MAKE SURE MY FRIEND WAS NOT IN PAIN, AND YOU ARE IN PAIN, SO LOGICALY I COULD HEAL YOU, BUT, UH, THERES A LOT OF CONTACT INVOLVED AND IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH THAT, IT IS FINE, I WILL NOT ASK AGAIN, I ASSURE-”

You look to Sans in bewilderment at Papyrus’ breathless speech, and it continues on after that. Sans is cracking up, and you look back at a flustered Papyrus, who has turned a low scale of orange.

You wonder how a skeleton blushes, but cast the idea off, and slowly sit down on the couch again. His stumbled words climb down into silence and he looks to you uncertainly. You give him a heartbreakingly nervous smile, and nod, very, very slowly in acceptance of his offer.

This is an enormous amount of trust and you can tell by the way his expression sets determinedly that he is well aware of it.

He slides over the space on the couch, and with movements slow enough that you could escape should you wish, he takes your arm, gingerly. You flinch on contact, and he stills, but after a few seconds of rapid heartbeats, he carefully slides up the sleeve of your jacket.

The nicks, a recently self-stitched gash on the inside just under the elbow, and the particularly nasty bruise and swell around your wrist enter view. The familiar cloud of orange that once caught Aloe on a dangerous fall engulfs his hand with a warm glow. He sets your hand down gently for a moment to pull off the glove on his glowing hand, and the glow gets positively stronger and brighter.

He picks up your arm again, and his bare hand softly brushes your aching wrist.

You expect it to hurt, so you tense. But his magic is warm like fresh made tea, and it sends a hum into your skin and it travels through your bones. The tips of his fingers are cold, and they’re hard but feather light.

Your eyes close for maybe a minute. You feel his hands trace up your arm; over the large cut and then to each of the smaller cuts or mostly healed bruises. Your whole arm feels like it’s being set in a warm bath when the sleeve is pushed all the way up to your shoulder and the hand shape bruises from when your father drags you by the arm are engulfed by Papyrus’ entire hand. You can tell he’s comparing the size of his hand to the imprint and covering it up with his own fingers as he heals it. Papyrus’ hand is bigger in size, but narrower from the lack of flesh.

Your eyes open slowly when he pulls back, and you feel tired and drowsy. You look at your arm. The only sign it was ever hurt is the faint redness left around your wrist that’s already going down, and the stitches still left in your skin, and age old scars that won’t just be healed away. You pull out the stitches one by one. A couple bleed upon removal. Papyrus takes your arm again and closes the little holes up.

You raise your arm and you know you probably look like a gapping child, but there’s no pain at all, and that’s not a feeling you’ve felt in ages. Even tense muscles are loose and relaxed like you got a weird arm massage.

You look at Papyrus, who anticipates your response with an uncomfortable nervous expression. You’re no short of amazed, and you sign, **“the great Papyrus is amazing.”**

He straightens up again, grinning proudly. You hear Sans laugh; you’d almost forget he was there. You look his way and he’s got a grin so knowing on his face that, for some unknown reason, you start turning a red shade as you listen to Papyrus laugh and agree that he _is_ quite amazing. Sans grin only widens and he winks at you, and you don’t have a _clue_ what that was supposed to mean.

Papyrus moves around to your other side and, to save the effort of dealing with the hoodie’s sleeves again, you gingerly pull it off. You’re left with a black tank top (this one is longer and better fitting, so the word on your stomach isn’t on display thankfully, and you are largely more comfortable than the last time you were in a tank top in front of them) and you hear Sans crack a joke about your _dark tastes_ in fashion that makes you grin; after all, every time Sans had been around you have worn all black, you notice absently on thoughts that get drowsy again as Papyrus starts working his way up your arm.

He hesitates when he gets to the top, but he keeps going to your shoulders this time. You never thought about how tense you were- though you certainly weren’t relaxed- until you feel it all leaving your muscles under the mind numbing soothing touch of his warm magic as he erases dark patches of bruises from being slammed into things. The pain dispersing and the softening of rock-hard tense muscles is enough to get to your head and a lost, stunted trail of noises is set loose. Papyrus doesn’t even pause, and you feel his magic heat up just a bit more in response and hear Sans chuckle again.

His hands slide cautious up your shoulder to your neck and you can feel him staring at the hand marks again, but he says nothing, and under careful ministrations with his magic, they, too, vanish.

His fingers touch your face; a thumb brushes your lip and the broken skin that had been bleeding again just this morning when you’d messed with it fades away. The sore cut on your cheek is gone, and so fades the thick bruise on your other cheek. There’s a cut on your hairline that’s been there for a while, and you actually hadn’t noticed how much it hurt until it was gone, and you feel so… _good_.

He stops there and you open your eyes. You barely notice the blush on his face as his ungloved fingers rub against the unworn glove quickly and he’s looking for more approval.

You can’t bring your tired, _unhurt_ arms up to sign anything to him. You hope the soft noise that escapes you sounds as grateful as your feeling. You let it repeat on your tongue over and over again, smile creeping up and taking over your expression.

He smiles back wide, apparently he understands.

You stop with the healing there and groggily retrieve more tea for them. It’s been over an hour since you started the little healing session, anyway, and you can see a little sweat had built up on Papyrus’ skull. He’s also really really orange. You figure both are signs of exhaustion. Right? Magic healing probably takes a lot out of you. You hope him turning so orange isn’t the same as a fever, and he’s getting sick.

The second tea ceremony of the day doesn’t get to leave the kitchen before the door is thrown open “SIS, WE’RE HOME! YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT JACKSON SAID TO ME AT LUNCH!” Terry yells excitedly, ready to chatter away about his boyfriend. You smile in the kitchen and start getting more cups out.

“oh, and sis, you- PAP!” Mabel, back to her cute dress self once more, cuts herself off excitedly as the group reaches the living room to find two brothers.

“Oh, Sans!” Fahima sounds extra excited, “I thought up a cool joke today!” she says proudly. You hear Sans give the go ahead, and she tells him some really bad knock knock joke, and you smile when he actually sounds impressed when he laughs. He’s still weird.

Papyrus is loudly complaining about it when you come out with the tray of tea again, this time with enough extra cups to accommodate their return home.

“Sis…” there’s silence and everyone’s staring. “…sis, you… you look…” Terry is lost for words.

You smile warmly and Aloe bounces off her place of attachment to Papyrus and hugs your legs, grinning widely and rubbing her cheek on your thigh. You hum as you put down the tea tray on the counter and kiss her forehead. She giggles quietly, and climbs back up on Papyrus. He’s beaming with pride that his handy work is so noticeable; he’s still pretty orange.

The room settles down and the tea ‘ceremony’ commences. With each cup delivered, you press a kiss to their foreheads and croon your warmest affections for each of your siblings. Terry and Fahima seem amazed at how up your mood is, and Mabel practically screams how happy she is when you kiss her forehead, and Aloe is giggling wildly; you’re sure Papyrus can feel her vibrating like a purring cat, as she’s still attached to his side.

There’s the moment you reach Sans, and when you don’t hesitate to apply your peck to the top of his skull, even _he’s_ floored in surprise, and everyone laughs when he puffs up indignantly at the embarrassment. You come to Papyrus- always saving him for last, and you can practically see the chameleon effect as his face rapidly descends orange before you even reach him. He must be very tired from all that magic use. You press your kiss to his temple rather than his forehead in extra appreciation.

He sweats and laughs nervously, quickly taking a drink from the received tea. You hear the room laughing and you smile warmly. Your siblings all seem very happy when you don’t sit all the way in the corner, and instead on Papyrus’ side, Aloe between you and him and clinging to both the skeleton and their tea.

Sans is cracking jokes and puns now, and you get the notion that their supposed to be aimed at you and Papyrus, but you’re not quite getting their angle as the tinted orange Papyrus complains with extra vigor and he looks embarrassed, so you don’t pry about it, you just smile into your tea, unknowing of just what he’s poking fun at papyrus about despite how your sibling all smile at you in a strange ‘hah we know something you don’t yet’ kind of way.

You’re very happy despite.

You're not happy and you drop your tea, cup shattering on the floor, when you hear the sound of a familiar car door slam in the driveway, too many hours too early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and then things go bad


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of an abused person is an upsetting, painful thing. it is no cheap plot twist to be inserted into a story for 'edge'. it is something qwith which an author should take great care. it is no cheap source of emotion or angst. it is a complex life struggle. the very concept that someone staying in the home of abuser is SUBMITTING is a lie. a child is weak and needs their parents, it is a very strong thing to fight to stay alive in their 'care'. to fight is to struggle and stay alive, it cannot be cheapened or weakened.
> 
> But, in times of this, fighting is strong but not always the best. to Runaway is sometimes the strongest thing you can do. To some, it is real and raw. And fighting is hard, and running away is hard. but, when it can be done, it should be done.

There’s less than a minute between the seconds your cup shatters over the hard wood, and the front door opening. There’s not even much more than 30 seconds.

All eyes turn on you, and you feel the full package of their surprise and concern weighing on your shoulders. Because tea is very important to you, and you _just dropped it on the floor_. That’s not something you would do. You also may be clumsy, but you are still careful, and you just _broke_ something.

And, also, because you look terrified.

And then the front door’s opening down the front hall and you’re _boned_.

There’s a mess on the floor. There are people other than family in your house. There are monsters in your house. You’re not in your place in your room like you’re supposed to be when he gets home and wants to ‘unwind without having to deal with _you_ ’. You don’t look injured, you’re too healed- something you should have considered before Papyrus healed you. you look _happy_.

These are all things that will be punished. These are all bad things. Bad.

You look at your siblings and horror has taken up stand on their expressions when the door opened.

You sign with outright furious speed. “ **Go to your room.”**

They stand and they’re scared but they are still hesitating. They don’t want to leave you to… this. They know what will happen. This will be bad. So they hesitate.

You don’t have time for that.

You pull Aloe, who’s starting to cry, off Papyrus who’s sitting upright and tensed at the change in the atmosphere. You push your youngest sister to your oldest sister and point at the stairs. **“I'm not letting him hurt you, go to your room”** you make a vocal warning noise to emphasize your point.

Noises will add to your punishment.

You don’t care, though, because when you make the sound your siblings don’t fight you on this anymore.

Mabel is wearing a dress and if your father sees her as Mabel and not as Maverick, he’ll hurt them. If he sees Trent wearing makeup, like he is, he’ll hurt him. If Fahima is in the way in any possible way and not adhering as a ‘proper good daughter’, he’ll hurt her. If he’s angry, he’ll go for you or Aloe. So you’ll make sure it’s you.

They’re half way up the stairs when your father pushes his way into the living room. You’ve placed yourself instinctively at the entrance to the second hall where the stairs are; you can see out of the corner of your eye as they run upstairs and into their room, even if your father cant from this angle.

Sans and Papyrus have both stood by now, and were close by you, about ready to question things.

Your father has locked gazes on them, and before you know what you're doing, your instinct shifts and you make your place between him and them, glad they were close to you and not still at the couches.

If he comes out swinging, it’ll be on you. That’s how it needs to be.

“Why. Are _they_. In _my_ house.”

It’s the opposite of calm even if it sounds like it.

He walks through the room with all the confidence a somewhat drunk-looking man possesses in his own home, which is a lot, stopping to glare at them and then down at you, and he’s closer than your liking, and you’re almost too frightened to respond.

You start to sign, and he grabs your hand roughly, and yanks. It twists. The skeleton brothers now know why your wrist was swollen and funny earlier; they all hear something in it _pop_ out of place. You don’t flinch at the pain or the sickening sound, though Papyrus does, and Sans twitches.

Your father yanks again from your lack of reaction, and it pops just as loud, if not more. “What the hell happened to you?” he hisses, confused. You look too… _not hurt_. The marks and bruises have vanished. It doesn’t make sense to him.

You try to sign, but the yank and the pop happen again, this time with a sickening _crick_. “Quit waving your hands at me.” He snaps. “fucking weirdo.”

You nod obediently, he lets go of your hand, they tuck behind your back. Sans and Papyrus can see you fisting the back of your shirt and rubbing it from their vantage behind you, seeking support from the fabric. It doesn’t offer anything.

“Now _why_ are _these… things_ in _my_ house.”

They went from ‘they’ to ‘things’ in a matter of seconds.

If you try to make a noise, he’ll get angry. If you sign, he’ll get angry. You stay silent, but as you expect, he gets angry at that, too.

“ _Answer me,_ you useless brat!”

The sound of skin on a hard surface is not enough to make you flinch, either, as he slams your head with his cane. The chipped end of the wood cuts your temple, and your head snaps to the side, but your head turns back and you continue to stare silently at him.

You’ve never really wondered or thought if other people’s presences would effect how your father treated you. What few times you had, you figured he might lay off, try and be more… deceptive. So he wouldn’t get caught. Either he doesn’t see Sans and Papyrus as ‘other people’ that would count, or he blatantly doesn’t care enough, or maybe even he doesn’t think anything about this is wrong. Honestly, all three are plausible. You just know you aren’t all that surprised that other people in presence don’t sway the way Terrance normally treats you.

Papyrus is shocked, you can tell when he speaks, but with Sans silent behind you and not in your field of vision he is as a cryptic as ever. “H-HEY- HEY, THERE IS NO NEED TO DO VIOLENCE, HERE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

He grabs your shoulder and you feel the start of a tug as Papyrus moves to pull you away, but the swing of the cane prompts you to swat his hand off of you. You take the blow from the cane that was aimed for Papyrus’ arm to your chest, and you wheeze unsteadily in response. You’d turned some in the process and you see Papyrus take a surprised step backward at the swat, and then wince when you’re the one who gets hit.

You smile in a weak manor, as you did when you blocked Maverick’s injury 4 nights ago, in assurance.

Papyrus is not assured. And it makes your father angry. He grabs you by the arm, and you see Papyrus recognizes the motion with a spark in his eyes as he matches it to the injuries he’d just healed that day, the bruises on your upper arm in the shape which matches the size of those hands.

Your father yanks you back and you get bashed into the wall abruptly from the force of the pull. Your father points the cane at the brothers. “Don’t trash like _you_ touch _my_ fucking wife’s _brat._ ”

From here you can see them both now. Sans’ expression has darkened and you no longer think the normal him is scary by comparison; you assume it’s only because his brother was put in danger. You want to apologize for that. Papyrus looks like he has no idea what to do, but he looks a little… _angry_. You assume it’s because he was called trash.

You sign quickly at them. “ **Go home.** ”

You shoot a look to your father, he didn’t notice you signing, busy glaring.

You look back to them, weakly smiling when they both pointedly stare at you with ‘ _that’s not happening_ ’ looks. “ **it’ll be okay.** ”

He notices that time, and he doesn’t use his old cane. He uses his hand, which whips the side of you face, and he grabs the front of your shirt and throws you on the ground. You cough and something unwanted escaped your throat; a twisted cry of pain.

He was gearing up to yell at you for signing. Now he’s disgusted by your voice. “ _stop talking, you inhuman- you monster._ _Disgusting._ ” He kicks you and you slide over the floor a good distance, and you cough again, holding your side.

“STOP THAT!” Papyrus snaps and he’s suddenly kneeling beside you, and he sounds angrier.

“Kiddo, I'm getting a little angry over here.” Sans points out in a smooth, icy tone. “I'm not a fan of this.”

You’re struggling up to your feet, and Papyrus is trying to help you, but you cringe every time he touches you and he looks so very lost on what to do.

“ _Get out of my house,_ and stay away from _-_ that _creature._ ” You father growls at the tallest skeleton man and he’s snarling and walking closer.

You bristle and put yourself in front of Papyrus again, but the tall skeleton is not going to let you do that, and he grabs and pulls _you_ back behind _him._

“YOU WILL NOT HURT MY FRIEND!”

“It’s _mine_ to hurt, she aint _yours_.” He growls and the cane swings.

You make a startled grunt-ish noise but Papyrus doesn’t let you push forward, he’ll take the blow himself; but it doesn’t come, and instead there’s a blue glow round the cane which has it stuck in mid swing, before it’s thrown across the room at Sans. He catches it neatly.

“I _really_ wouldn’t recommend doing that a third time.” Sans’ tone is cold as absolute 0, freezing and dark. The snaps the cane like a pencil with the one hand he’s holding it in.

Sans is genuinely terrifying when he wants to be.

Your arms link around Papyrus’s spine under where his ribs stop and pull. It’s probably intrusive, and it really catches him off guard, and you can pull him back far enough to get in front of him and between Papyrus and your father. You want Papyrus as far as possible, away from him.

Your signing away, even though you know your father doesn’t know sign language, but it’s the only way you have to communicate without sitting down and trying to write, so your hands are moving at a rapid pace, “ **don’t hurt Papyrus, don’t hurt Papyrus, don’t hurt Papyrus** ” in repeat, shaking your head and spelling the individual letters of his name so fast they blur.

The man sneers and he goes to grab your wrist and this time you do flinch when he does, but before it can be yanked or twisted or hurt or pulled, you feel the familiar heat, and open your shut-squeezed eyes. A glowing, gloved hand has a firm clasp on your fathers. “ _DO NOT._ ” It’s more threatening then you’ve ever heard Papyrus sound, and you’d never thought you’d hear his voice such a way.

You look up at him, startled, and he looks furious as he leans over your shoulder with ease at his height.

And then you winced as your father’s grip tightened on the already thrice-twisted wrist. “ _Get your hands off me, you freak!_ ” He pulled with a shrill-ish shout, and you were yanked further from a safe Papyrus toward a not safe Terrance.

Then your father rose a fist, and it wasn’t aimed at you, and it was aimed for Papyrus, and you couldn’t get in the way of it because they were both holding you. and you panicked.

You let out a broken noise of fear and _pushed_ , with all your might, and you were a very weak person in comparison to Terrance, but your full body gets him off balance and your push knocks him to the ground before he can hit the first friend you’ve ever had.

You’re so close you smell the alcohol on him as the two of you hit the floor, loud, and his grip- he’d been torn free of Papyrus’- tightened so hard you let out a pained, sloppy croak.

You feel his rage hit you before he himself can, _how dare you_. your terrified and you try to get up and crawl, _distance, run away_ , but there’s a pinning hand on your neck again and he’s squeezing as tight as he did your wrist and you struggle and he screams, and now his fist connects with your face, and- your okay with that.

He didn’t hit Papyrus.

Its alright.

You go slack and you let him hit, and you can’t breathe. But this is fine.

A second voice screams and it’s followed by a choir, and you recognize your siblings descending the stairs through blurry eyes.

And then you hear an outraged roar, and see something- bones?- knock him off you and painful breathes are sucked back into your throat with choking hacks.

Two hands- ice cold and hard in texture, with no flesh- hook under your arms and pull you backward and you’re separated from the sounds of your angry father and the outraged shouting by the couch you are dragged behind. You’re leaned against the wall, and you see Sans take a step away from you now, nodding to himself, and then he goes back, strolling with his hands stuffed in your pocket.

The fighting shuts down as he leaves, and you assume he’s stopped it somehow just like he’s stopped it all before, and now there are more fleshy hands, many pairs, on your person, and you hear the sounds of your panicking siblings.

Papyrus darts past, only stopping to yell something at Terry you don’t comprehend, and the oldest of your siblings pulls out his phone and starts dialing.

Sans comes back into view and crouches with a less-than-happy smile still plastered on his face, and he runs cold fingers over your neck and he looks terrifying when he’s angry, but you aren’t scared of it, not of this anger, hes terrifying but hes… safe, hes safe to be around. Papyrus runs back into sight and Sans stands up; Papyrus pushes a large jug into Sans’ hands and its full of tea. Fahima comes with him and she’s carrying all your favorite cups, minus the broken one still scattered on the floor in shattered pieces.

Papyrus picks you up swiftly with one arm, your weak and you’ve been punished with no food before so you aren’t at all surprised he can pick you up so easy with just one arm. His other arm picks up the smallest of your siblings, and Aloe, who had been clinging to your side on the floor, is clinging to you in his hold now. Terry grabs Mabel and Fahima with each of his hands, and then everything is cold because you’re all outside and speed walking down the sidewalk.

It’s better to run away. Fighting will lead to someone getting more hurt. You’re tired of hurt, and you’re tired of fighting for your life. The snow is cold and you’re running and your head is spinning and you see colors. But, you have the sense that you’re finally not fighting, your running. You feel safer outside your little world then you did inside it.

You all running away. Aloe is clung to you, and Sans is herding your siblings, and everyone is safe, and your all running.

And then you’re blacking out, outside of your own little world that you’d never left in years.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adjusting period is the temporary state of shock; things have changed drastically and one must learn how to fit in. whole cultures have fallen from a failed adjustment period, just as a single life might spiral out of control should they fail to adjust.
> 
> heed warning; things at first may seem fine, but adjustment is a process and one that takes time, and can lead to catastrophe. not everything is ever so fine as it seems.

You wake up in a room you’ve never been in before in your life. You’re in a bed you don’t know, wrapped in layers of blankets you don’t recognize, breathing unfamiliar air.

There is, however, a recognizable weight on your chest, and the orange in your vision is the curly hair of Aloe, fast asleep and cuddled close and full of familiar warmth.

You look down at the unfamiliar floor, it’s carpet and not cold wood like all the floors of your own home. But all over it, curled up asleep close to your bed, the familiar patterns of breathing and faint snores, and rising and falling of familiar chests, are your siblings.

You slip out of your bed, careful not to wake Aloe and wrap her up tight in blankets. You’re in unfamiliar clothes; black sweatpants and a black T-shirt. They look like they could be yours, but you’ve never seen them before. You’re even wearing black socks.

You feel… _good_.

 _Healed_.

Your hands touch your neck. It’s not sore. They touch your face, there’s no cuts. They roam over your clothes and skin, but… you feel no pain anywhere. Not surface wounds, no underlying aches, no splitting pain that you’ve dealt with for years and had come to learn was a broken rib that had never healed right. You’ve never felt so. _Good_.

You slide to the door in silence, and you wouldn’t disturb even the lightest sleeper as you carefully open the unfamiliar door. You bring one of the blankets from the bed, wrapped around you close. It feels very nice, like- not flannel, but close. It’s very comforting. It has a comforting smell about it, too, that’s hard to describe. It had been wrapped around you very close, you’d noted, with great care while you’d slept. It smells good and feels comfortable, even if it’s unfamiliar.

While the room you were in had been dark, beyond it there was more light, if only a little. You stood on a landing overlooking a living room, and it’s also empty and has no lights on. But there’s a walkway down stairs in the living room, and light pours out in straight edges, casting long unfamiliar shapes and shadows. Soft whispered words are shared between different voices.

You move in silence down the steps, around living room furniture, and carefully peek into the archway.

You pick out Sans sitting on the counter, he’s downing a bottle of ketchup- and that’s yet another weird thing about him. Papyrus leans on the counter beside him, turning one of your cups in his hands, looking it over. There’s a massive, tall goat woman in long purple robes in the room, too. With them, a human in what you recognize as a police uniform. They all whisper back and forth.

You want to wait and listen from the edge and corners, like always, but you have an urge to be closer to the brothers and you can’t stay outside the room long enough to hear much of anything after you finally see them, so what they were talking about, you don’t know. You just want to check and see that the skeletons are safe, that Terrance didn’t hurt them, and then go back to your siblings. You have to make sure they’re okay, and then go back to where you belong.

They look up instantly when you step inside the room, with all four having fixed gazes on you and nothing else.

You pull the blanket closer and rub it under your fingers. You creep around the edge of the room like a shadow, and their eyes follow your every step. You reach Sans first and stop. He watches you back as you eye him closely. When you see nothing, not a scratch on his bones (you’d been extra worried, recalling Papyrus said Sans had particularly low HP, which you assumed meant weak like in a video game), you are relieved, so relieved, and kiss his forehead again with a low croon. He still seems very surprised that you’ve done that, yet again, just like the last time. He doesn’t pout at the surprise, instead his smile brightens up after a few seconds.

You continue forward to Papyrus, who’s looking you over as close as you are him. You’re both checking each other’s safety in the same manor. You find a single scratch on his arm that you know hadn’t been there before, marking his bone, and you touch it with shivering fingers.

Papyrus pulls back and smiles despite himself as he leans a little lower. He signs, because he can’t keep his voice down like the others, and everyone is still asleep in the upstairs room. “ **It’s just a _flesh wound_ , don’t worry.**” He hates puns but he knows you like his brothers’, and Papyrus won’t admit it, but they _are_ good for cracking tension.

The joke makes you smile, and pick up his arm as gently as he did your when he healed them. You press a kiss to it in apology, and then to his cheek. You make a very low noise that bubbles away into a softer one, pressing your forehead to his for a moment, and then you sink back into you blanket with a smile.

He blushes a very unnatural color you’d associate with fire, and you can see Sans grinning again. You recall Papyrus glowing when he’d grabbed your father, the magic must have made him tired again; after all, you don’t know how long its been, it could very well have been an hour ago. Despite that conclusion on why he’s turned orange, you turn pink yourself as you offer a final smile to a slightly sweating Papyrus, and quietly slink back the way you came, up stairs and back into the strange bed with Aloe, curling around her tight.

The next time you wake up, the room is brighter. Light streams through open curtains and you can see details of the unfamiliar room for the first time. You note the bed is… also a car? Interesting. There’s a pirate flag on the wall, multitudes of action figures, a computer, and another door you assume to be a closet beside a shelf of books.

Aloe and Maverick- you can tell it’s Maverick and not Mabel today, somehow; you must just be that in tune to his gender swings- are inspecting a book from the shelf, sitting at the edge of your bed.

They see you shift and Aloe jumps at you excitedly; you notice she’s wearing her mask, but you pull it down and kiss her nose. She vibrates in her affectionate way and you purr back. Maverick vanished out the door, screaming in excitement.

Not long after, the rest of your siblings are tripping over themselves and falling into the room. Maverick jumps up with Aloe and attaches snuggly on your side. Terry and Fahima hug you tight.

“Sis- sis, you won’t believe where we are-”

“-everyone is so kind-”

“-And Frisk’s mom is a goat! Can you believe it!”

You’re thrown stories and information so fast you’re more confused than ever.

Another few heads poke through the door; you spy Frisk and the supposed goat mom, whom you’d seen last night, as well as the skeleton skull of Papyrus.

Maverick sees them too and runs to the door to grab Toriel and Frisk’s hands and pull them in. “SEE, SEE, I TOLD YOU, ITS GOAT MOM!”

You blush and sign, **“Behave.”**

Toriel smiles and shakes her head. “No worries, dear. Children will be children.”

“HUMAN… HOW ARE YOU FEELING TODAY?” Papyrus asks curiously, creeping through the door a little slower. Aloe seems to have found him and is attached to his leg at some point.

Your hands instinctively rest where you know you should feel pain, one on your throat, and the kick injuries to your chest has the other. But just as last night, there is no feeling of pain at all. **“Good. Really good.** ”

Papyrus beams. “EXCELLENT! AS I SAID ONCE BEFORE, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS AM INDEED THE BEST HEALER SINCE HER MAJESTY TORIEL, BUT BECAUSE YOU ARE SUCH AN IMPORTANT HUMAN, AND ALSO BECAUSE OF- UH- GENDER PRIVACY THINGS, YOU WILL GET ONLY THE BEST, AND THAT MEANS HER MAJESTY!”

You hadn’t, uh, thought about the gender privacy things and the fact you were wearing different clothes, and blushed heavily, now a bit relieved that it would have been Toriel that healed your body and put you into these new clothes. You start to sign Toriel a very blushy thanks, but Toriel shakes her head, “Do not thank me, child, I would gladly do it again. Your siblings tell me how sweet you are, as do the skeleton brothers. I am glad to have been able to help you, young one.”

She really is a goat mom, you note to yourself. She has the distinct mom aura. Well, she’s not like _your_ mom, but Luia isn’t a very mom-ish person anyway.

Then you think backwards, rewinding to a comment from Sans that Frisk’s parents were abusive, too. You smile warmly, warmer than you expected to. You hope Toriel takes very good care of Frisk if she is Frisk’s mother now.

You don’t know how, but Toriel must pick up your thoughts like a radar with her mom powers. She returns your smile with a nod, and you nod back.

“IT IS LIKE YOU TWO ARE HAVING A MIND READING CONVERSATION! WHAT IS THAT CALLED? TELE-APATHY?” Papyrus is intrigued.

Frisk signs the word Telepathy out and Papyrus nods. “PERHAPS IT IS A MATERNAL THING, YES FRISK? THE TWO OF THEM ARE VERY MOM-ISH.”

Frisk nods with a laugh. Toriel smiles fondly and you feel happy. You take a chance to look around again, and the new surroundings are still unfamiliar, and the longer you are in them, the more tense you feel about them. The first person to make eye contact with you is Frisk and you ask them, **“Where are we?** ”

Frisk detects the nervous shake in your hands and gives you a surprisingly comforting smile. It’s a lot more effective than your sad attempt at ‘comforting’ smiles. **“This is Pap’s room.”** they respond.

You wheeze and blush hard, practically jumping out of the cool race car bed- that _is_ something he would have, isn’t it? Kind of amusing.- and huddle in a new corner, looking around the room with a steadily increasing blush.

Wow did it feel suddenly intrusive and personal. I mean, if this is his room, this is _his_ world. And you, uh, you totally slept in his bed.

You’ve never even been to anyone but your own’s house before and you just _slept in someone else’s bed_.

“HUMAN! WHY ARE YOU DISTRESSED!” Papyrus pulls a ready-to-fight pose like he will save you from some sort of threat.

You sink into your blanket, but then realize it’s _his_ blanket and that smell smells kind of like when he healed you and it’s _his_ smell, and you’re blushing so red as you pull off the dark blue-black blanket, that you’re sure you look like a ripe cherry tomato.

“ARE YOU SAYING YOU DO NOT LIKE MY FAVORITE BLANKET? I CAN FIND YOU ANOTHER, DO NOT WORRY!” he looks concerned and confused.

 _It’s his favorite blanket_.

A long “hhhhhhhhh” wheezes out of you like someone hit you in the stomach and knocked out the air.

“HUMAN, I THINK YOU NEED TO SIT DOWN, BECAUSE HUMANS ARE CERTAINLY NOT SUPPOSED TO CHANGE COLOR SO MUCH!” in which he picks you up with a not so surprising ease and sits you on his bed again. You’re so embarrassed you don’t even move during being carried. “HUMAN, YOU SHOULD NOT BE AS LIGHT AS FRISK! YOU NEED FOOD! AND TO STAY SITTING BEFORE YOU TURN ANY MORE RED! I CAN SOLVE ALL OF THESE DILEMMAS BY COOKING YOU FOOD IF YOU STAY IN BED! DO YOU LIKE SPAGETTI?” he nyehehehes “OF COURSE YOU DO! I WILL RETURN!”

He’s as energetic as ever. You’re glad for it, but also very embarrassed.

Everyone is giving you that same weird ‘I know’ smile that Sans gives you, even Toriel and Frisk, as Papyrus dashes away.

“Do not worry, dear.” Toriel is trying not to giggle. “Papyrus is happy to share, he says so himself.” More slyly she adds, “After all, you are such an important human.”

Frisk beams. **“A very important human indeed.”** Air-quoting the words with their fingers like quoting something specific you don’t know about.

“You guys are so mean, teasing the embarrassed like that.” Sans walks by the door. “Throw the kid a bone, you two, cut’em some slack.”

Fahima beams with a new idea, and tried to whisper it to you, “We could get a bunch of jokes for Comic Sans Hour while we’re here, right?!”

Fahima is not a good whisperer. Sans’ head pops back in. “excuse?”

Fahima is now the embarrassed one. Maverick answers proudly, “Big sis thinks your jokes are so funny that we started all reading the jokes you send Fah-ha’s phone so she’d laugh!”

Oh. Well. Now _you’re the_ embarrassed one. again. You hang your head in shame when Sans splits the biggest grin you’ve ever seen him wear. “jeeze kid, you gotta be ribbin’ me, you think an old funny bones like myself is that good? I'm not _humorous_ at all, don’t pull my _leg_.”

There’s a funny noise from you, and he recognizes it as a suppressed chuckle. He seems amused when Toriel adds, “I must agree with the child, Sans, you are quite the _comic._ ”

“Well, Tori, if it’s you telling me, I guess I stand _serif_ ed.”

You’re a real sucker for these really bad jokes and you cackle in your broken manor, and its ridiculously bad how good they are at bad jokes.

You hear Papyrus shouting from the kitchen, “THAT IS ENOUGH, SANS! NO MORE OF YOUR SHENANIGANS.”

“Whoa, bro, the kids all think I'm so punny! Were having a sanstastic time, don’t be a poor sport.”

“SANS YOU ARE SO TASTELESS. AND I WOULD KNOW, I AM THE MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS!”

“Guess that makes me stale.” He finger guns his way out again, satisfied that he notes you’re still muffling laughs and all the others are greatly amused. You only laugh harder at his weird way of leaving for the second time, and he turns away with a content grin.

“Maybe we could get him to do a live Comic Sans Hour.” Terry’s still chuckling.

“He _is_ better in person.” Toriel smiles warmly, wiping a tear from her eye. “Although I do like the jokes he sends my phone as well.”

You smile and sign, certain that you’re safe because he can’t see you signing, **“Sans is very nice. I am glad he is the second person I have ever met.”**

Your siblings look proud of your out loud (uh… out silent, since it was signing?) confession. Toriel looks touched at such a thing, and Frisk looks a little more surprised to hear that he’s only the second person you’ve met in your life, since Frisk knows how you literally only met him a couple weeks ago. Then Frisk smiles mischievously. **“I'm gunna go tell him that.”**

You’re alarmed but it’s too late, because Frisk is a fast child and is already gone, and Maverick is screaming encouragement as he follows.

You hear Sans laughing in the distance and you receive a winky face text message in response shortly followed by a heart and you find yourself incredibly embarrassed but more so happy. You receive a bad skeleton pun 5 minutes later and you’re cracking up and you know that weird short skeleton knows you are and is proud of himself wherever he’s gone to.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In autistics, there is the Attentive and the Inattentive. Inattentive are more common; they often fail to pick up specific cues, don't recognize differences in emotions, or don't understand how to react or what the mean. it is the Attentive that often is never rightfully diagnosed, though are often societally considered 'weird' by common public consensus. Attentives are, almost, 'over' attuned to the emotions, cues and signals of another person. Attentives seek each other out in tight nit groups and can, seemingly, sense each others distress. Attentive Autistics have, on occasion, been important factors in preventing emotional and mental decline. 
> 
> Attentives need other Attentives; they need others to understand their struggle in autism even if they don't know that one another is, clinically, autistic. Attentives eek mutual understanding, and without it, become Inattentive, where they are then more likely diagnosed. Attentives also flock toward those with distress symptoms; Depressed, Anxious, at-risk. Attentives are, through their understanding, grafter perfectly to aid these individuals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy if you read that summary or cared, hah, fun fact, Papyrus I headcanon as an Attentive, thus why he's so good at handling Reader, whom is an Inattentive.

You’ve been here with your family for two days since you first woke, which is then totaled to three if you include the whole da you slept.

You still very well remember Papyrus carrying you out of the house. You were glad he brought your tea, because Terry grew the plants himself. It was too cold to grow more tea leaves with his seeds, and there was no way he could go back to that house and get more leaves. And you needed your tea. Now more than ever. It was a lifeline in this world that was outside your own.

You’d stayed asleep for a little over 24 hours, initially. Something about a head injury; it had been out of Papyrus’ healing range, he admitted guiltily, and they had needed Toriel. You reminded Papyrus that he had been a very important and big help and you were thankful. He reminded you that you weren’t allowed to thank him for anything because he still hadn’t managed to make up for offending you. You begged to differ, and you told him so, though you didn’t explain that his compliments were so… _hhhhhhh_ … and you probably never would have the words for that. Oh, and after those, he had also possibly saved your life.

The first day was cozy and warm. Papyrus made you a lot of spaghetti, concerned that Toriel was concerned because you looked- in Toriel’s words- too much like a skeleton under your baggy clothes. Papyrus and Sans had subtly agreed, because they’d seen how thin you were before, too. You caved and you ate Papyrus’ spaghetti.

It tasted like when Maverick tried to cook lasagna on your birthday last year, so despite its less than… _perfect_ flavor, it gave you a warm feeling. Sans and Frisk had both risen an incredulous brow at you when you energetically accepted Papyrus’ excited plate of seconds, and then thirds.

Maverick had tasted it and was just as surprised that they tasted similar and had told pap so, and that’s how Papyrus declared that he would teach Maverick how to cook. That day they had an impromptu cooking lesson, and you’d happily watched from the side- you even let Papyrus goad you into stirring sauce.

That first night, aside from the initial 24-hour nap, ensued the ‘where would you sleep’ drama. Papyrus had made himself comfy on the couch during the 24 hour sleep and insisted to do the same thing again that night, and you had battled the idea as strongly as you, a rather… _obedient_ person… possibly could. Papyrus had won out when he’d picked you up neatly and carried you back up the stairs and put you in the bed- keeping you there by implanting Aloe at your side, who attached happily and under Papyrus’ cheerful orders refused to let you get up again. You relented at that point, now even your sister working against you! huh!

The next day was also nice. Alphys had shown up with Undyne. The fish woman had been dragged to the kitchen by Papyrus so that the taller skeleton could excitedly show Undyne, his cooking teacher, that he too was a cooking teacher. Maverick and Undyne soon became good pals, and that made you happy. Maverick turned into Mabel in the middle of it all and Undyne had been a little confused but rolled with it. Mabel even got to do Undyne’s hair in a braid, and Undyne had given him a sharp toothed grin of approval at the completed fish tail.

You watched on and smiled from your corner, which you also did as you listen to Alphys and Fahima chatter on about robot stuff you weren’t 100% understanding. Their conversation had shifted over to books and then to you, because Fahima mentioned that she always got you books from school. And that was how all the monsters learned how much you loved languages.

Which, Sans joked, appearing out of nowhere, was weird since you couldn’t talk. Alphys started stuttering and worried you’d be offended, but you had shrugged and smiled. You’d signed at them, asking for a piece of paper, and started writing in smooth fluent English, then Arabic, and then Egyptian Hieroglyphs. Alphys had burst with excitement when she asked if you could do Japanese and you nodded. She had you write out her name, and then one by one, everyone was asking you to write out their names in countless little languages from Spanish to a language you told them was from Africa called Zulu. You showed them your favorite and what you thought was prettiest, an Indian Language called Gujarati. Apparently, Old Monster languages also looked a lot like the Korean language, to the point Sans could for the most part read it off the paper since he knew the older written language.

That day went by, and although you still fought about monopolizing Papyrus’ bed and tried to give it back, it was more than amusing to everyone else when you only ended up carried up the stairs. Aloe had passed out early and would not be there to grapple you into submission, so Sans had told Papyrus to read you a bed time story- mostly as a joke, but of course, Papyrus liked the idea greatly and read you- and Maverick, returned from Mabel- his favorite peek-a-boo bunny tale. It was cute but at the end he wasn’t satisfied because you hadn’t fallen asleep, although Maverick had. You felt a bit guilty. He asked you what normally helped you sleep. He’s signing, to keep quiet and not wake the sleepers; by now, all your siblings had also retired. Peekaboo bunny had put them all too sleep, despite Papyrus’ moderately loud bedtime-story-‘whisper’-voice.

Tea, of course, was your first signed response, but of course you already had a cup of that sitting on the night stand. So you signed to him that, on the normal night, you don’t normally sleep. He asks you why. He felt your mood shift quickly, when you didn’t answer, and he signed to you that you didn’t need to talk about it if it was hard for you, and maybe he looked a little guilty bringing it up. But after a few minutes, you sign out slowly the word ‘father’, as an answer.

Papyrus is watching you, waiting, and you kept going when he waits for more.

You explained that you stayed awake to make sure he never hurt the others, you say. But after a few seconds of hesitation you also told him that you were too scared to go to sleep. He asks you, quietly with silent hand signs, why? You don’t want to talk about it, not really, because it hurts and because you know he doesn’t like hearing about, well, what he _knows_ it is by now. But there’s a crack in you that lets the answer pour out anyways.

You explain how you’ve woken up on more than one occasion in the morning to ice water being poured on your head in the manor he wakes you and you have to make sure its cleaned up before he comes home, or you will be… _reprimanded_ , on good days; on bad ones, your father doesn’t sleep and he watches TV or does whatever he does, angry, and if you aren’t awake, he sometimes goes for Aloe. And on other days, your woken up and dragged out of the room and thrown out of the bedroom, and he yells at you to leave his house. You don’t want to tell Papyrus that sometimes- most of the time- _all the time_ , those dragging incidents end up with being thrown down the stairs. But you do; you do tell him.

He understands why you don’t sleep at night. You wish you hadn’t told him. He looks horrified.

You slowly reach a hand out to him, almost touch him. You regret it and you bring it back to yourself. He mimics you, and holds out his hand. But he doesn’t take it back, he out holds his offer. You take his hand, and your fingers trace the fabric of his gloves. It feels like his favorite blanket. You hold his hand for a second, taking a deep breath, and after a while, you sign to him again.

 _“_ **Sans says you’re like me.** ”

Papyrus tilts his skull to the side a bit. “ **Like you?** ”

You nod once. Then look down, then back up at him. “ **But you don’t seem broken to me. Like me.** ”

“ **Broken?** ” He’s frowning at you.

“ **I can’t talk. I can’t focus. I'm not smart. I'm not good at even looking at other people. I do weird things. I do things that scare people. I'm not even good at leaving my own room. Because I'm broken.** ”

Papyrus is rubbing his gloves together, you notice placidly. “ **Not all of that is bad… and some of it isn’t even true…** ”

You look at him, surprised. He frowns again. “ **You don’t creep people out- at least, not me, and not Sans, and not our friends. And you’re very smart, and you know all sorts of things. I don’t know any of those things you do about languages. And you know more about the science your sister talks about than I do.** ” He pauses, and then his hands continue vigorously. **“And there’s nothing wrong with not talking. Frisk doesn’t talk by choice, they could talk, but they don’t. And there’s nothing wrong with. Weird things. And there nothing wrong with being a little unfocused, right?”**

He hesitates again, and stops.

You shake your head and sigh. **“Your nice, Papyrus. But people don’t want… broken things like me out in their world.”**

 **“Would you want me in yours?”** that’s an extra surprising question from the skeleton. He shifts in his chair. **“You said I am like you, right?”**

Your hands flutter around quickly before they figure out what to transcribe. **“You- you're welcome in my world, always. And you aren’t like me, you aren’t broken, you’re nice and good.”**

 **“But so are you.”** he enforced, **“You are very kind, and very good. Perhaps not as nice or good as The Great Papyrus, of course, but you are very kind and good.”**

Your face heats up a little and you try not to smile dumbly, but it makes its way there, perched on your face, anyway.

 **“And at any rate, my brother is right.”** Papyrus signed shortly, smiling and shrugging. **“Humans have a word for it. I can’t… remember what it is, and I don’t much really care?”** he shrugged again. **“Humans need labels for everything. We don’t have those in the underground, you’re just you, and that’s how it is. The great Papyrus is great, humans can call my greatness traits whatever they want, I don’t care.”**

He gives you a funny smile and you see his cheeks glow. **“I- well, that is, if it’s the same as- if it makes us the same-** ” he cuts his signs off and starts over again, and then stops, and you wonder if he’s used magic lately? Because he looks really orange. You watch his hands rub each other and against the cloth of his gloves during his signing intermission, and you’re reminded of how you rub your blankets and run your hands through your hair. Perhaps Sans is right after all. Papyrus finally continues. **“If it means that I am like you, ‘broken’ or whatever Sans says its ‘called’, then it is a good thing, because you are… very good.”**

You sit up, floored, because no one’s ever said something like that to you. You’re still trying to figure out what the hell to sign back, when he adds warmly, **“and, you’re welcome here- in my world, too.”**

You start to cry.

Papyrus flips out immediately and returns to his loud tone of voice, which effectively wakes up your siblings and even draws Sans’ attention, and so you cry in front of literally the whole house and Papyrus waves his arms around furiously in search of what he said wrong but you take his hand and hold it and blubber uncontrollable sounds as you clutch his hand and cry because that’s the best thing you’ve ever heard in your life, and you’re not in any pain, and you’re not afraid, and everyone you love is safe, and you’re not in your old room, you’re in a new one, and you’re not in _the cage_ that is your world and you’re in his, and he’s welcoming, and…

And you’re happy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attachment to surrogates is, for those with anxiety or in bad situations, a life line. select few peoples that can be trusted with anything and everything.

As happy as you were the night before, and in the moments after you woke up to remember it, you now sat in complete silence and stared at the table.

The silence stretches long after she, the police officer, finishes. Your hands don’t move to confirm or deny anything she has just read off her “list of complaints and offences”.

Amongst which are Assault, Aggravated Assault, Battery, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Domestic violence, Harassment, Substance Harboring, Kidnapping and Hostage charges. And that’s only what you remember from the list.

These are charges on your parents.

You don’t even ever remember confessing to anyone about your mother’s drug stash, for those nights that the alcohol doesn’t cut it. Some part of you wonders who and when anyone found out about that.

In all honesty, you’re feeling… betrayed again.

It’s not as strong as when you thought Papyrus or Sans had reported what they had seen of your injuries to Child Services. That felt like a very long time ago. But this time, even though you know for absolute 100% certainty that it actually was them who made the report, you don’t feel _as_ betrayed.

But you still feel it like a burn.

You don’t move or look up from the spot on the dining table. The police officer stares at you. She’s being particularly patient, but she makes you incredibly uncomfortable. There was a very big difference for you between the two skeletal monsters you have befriended talking to you, and this total stranger who stands before you, watching and trying to interact with you.

You long to be curled up under your bed, and with every passing second, you start to feel your trembling becoming more noticeable, and your struggle to prevent your nervous ticks are gradually failing you. You just want her to _go away_ and stop _looking_ at you…

“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough.” Sans stands up from his chair; he and Papyrus have been sitting there since the start. Despite the lingering feeling of betrayal, having them at your side is so helpful. Alone, you’d have cracked by now. Probably right at the start.

You hear his chair scrape the floor as he stands. “Look, officer, the kids gunna need a little time, you know?”

“That’s why we waited 3 days, we cant put this off much longer.” The woman is displeased. “This is already causing issues, taking as long as it is, we need her to agree to press the charges already. Social Services and the Court need this information, and we cant keep the guardians under house arrest much longer, and we can’t bring them in unless charges are pressed.”

“I AM CERTAIN THE HUMAN WILL BE READY SOON, OFFICER HUMAN. JUST A LITTLE MORE TIME?”

There’s a long exhale and the sound of stamping feet as the uniformed police officer makes her way to the door out of the room. Papyrus stands and follows to show the woman to the front door.

You hear Sans sit down again, now in Papyrus’ chair, on your direct left instead of your right.

“…How are you holding up, pal?”

 **“You told on me.”** Its signed quick before the hands returned to rubbing vigorously at the blanket, Papyrus’ favorite, around your shoulders. You surprise even yourself by responding so quickly, after sitting reactionless for the past hour.

Sans sighed. “Kid. We told on your parents, firstly, not you; you haven’t done shit wrong, keep that in mind for me. Secondly, _yeah_ , we did. Because that man was disgusting, and he doesn’t belong free.”

 **“Luia wont do well in jail.”** Sans doesn’t say anything, so you correct the name with **“Mother.”** To clarify.

He makes an ‘ah’ sound as he understands. “Your mom isn’t innocent either, kid. She never did it herself, but we got your sib’s comments; your mom told your old man when she thought you deserved a punishment. She let it all happen. And she was just as neglectful.”

You’re quiet for a minute. **“But she always tried, Sans. She loved me. She loved me. I just couldn’t ever be what she deserved. She loved me, even if I’m not what she wanted and I wasn’t good enough. She loved me.”**

“I’m sure she did, I’m sure she did, I don’t doubt that. But she’s done bad, kiddo. You don’t need to be anything or need to ‘deserve’ love, you don’t need to be good enough. She loved you but she didn’t look out for you and she didn’t do her job as a mother, kid, and for that she needs to pay the price. Because it’s her job to make sure you’re okay. And she didn’t, kid. You weren’t okay. You weren’t.”

You switch topics, because you’d have to really think about that, and it would take longer than a couple seconds. **“I can’t confess about him.”**

“Why?” Sans said. His voice was harder and darker. While maybe he had sympathy for your mother, just a little bit, your father had left him with a major bone to pick, hurting his brother and so blatantly hurting his own kid for a disability in speech, even in front of other people. You father acted like that and felt guiltless and that pissed Sans off.

“ _Why_?” He demanded again after a couple seconds of silence.

 **“when-”** your hands stilled. **“I tried once, sans. I- I told my teacher in my last year of middle school, and, and he- he- Sans- Sans, if- when- when he gets out of prison this time, Sans-  Sans, he will- he will-”** every time you started to sign, fear froze up your movements, and the combined anxiety, stress and frustration made it even harder.

“He won’t do _anything_.” Sans said sharply in his blackened tone. “He comes near, and I’ll give him a _real_ bad time, kid. He’ll figure that out when he’s sobered up in the big house. He won’t come around you, not ever again. And that’s if he ever gets out, kid.” You heard his bone finger tapping slowly on the surface of the table, “Now, _what_ did he do _last time,_ and do I need to break a few _bones_?” there was no humor in his pun, instead it dripped with barely contained malice.

You shook your head quickly- but when you shot a glance up to meet him, the white lights that were his eyes were dagger sharp. “ _Kid._ ” He demanded, and that malice was seeping in.

You knew it wasn’t for you, though. And, frankly, even though he creeps you out and probably always _will_ creep you out, being scared of him was different and you couldn’t really imagine being scared of him. You knew that malice was for Terrance, not you.

The firmness of his voice made your hands move.

**“He almost killed her.”**

“Who?”

 **“Tess. Aloe.”** You answered quietly, with shaking hands. **“Almost killed her. Only a year old. Couldn’t even cry. Went to the hospital after. Just-”** the failure to communicate the words was frustrating at best, and trembling hands reached up to grip at your own throat to try and physically show him instead of force words you cant find into your moving hands, before dropping to sign again. **“He wouldn’t let go. He almost killed her. Her little neck. She can’t talk at all now. He almost killed her. She can’t talk. Tess turned into Aloe. Sorry. Shouldn’t have told the teacher. Sorry. Should have stayed quiet, sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry…”**

From there the hand signs repeated until they were so sloppy and trembling and incomplete, that the word sorry didn’t even come through them anymore. Just quiet, breathless wheezing and trembling, ill sounded sobs and flapping hands.

A cool bony hand settled hesitantly on your back, gently running a thumb back and forth. You know Sans had watched you from the minute hed met you (youd watch someone just as close if you found your sibling in their house randomly one day).

But the way he mimicked the way you rubbed things- up, left, down, right, up, left, down, right- with his thumb, it was exactly the same. He’s been watching really close. Maybe because He truly thinks you and Papyrus are the same? Does Papyrus do things with such set fashion? Is that why sans notices your little ways? Up, left, down, right, up, left, down, right, and the pressure on your back like when you pull a blanket tighter around you or press against the wall or corner.

He’s been watching. He calms you, easily.

“S’all right, kid. M’sorry. Sorry for your sister and you both. It’s alright.”

“-SANS? HUMAN?” Papyrus returned and his distress was audible. “WAS- WAS THE INTERVIEW THAT BAD?” his guilt crept into his tone. You wonder how long he’s been there, or if he just got there.

“Nah, pap.” Sans said quietly. “This crying just means we gotta work extra hard to make sure daddy dearest rots in prison.”

“IS SUCH THE PLAN!” Papyrus nodded, and he came to your side, surprising you greatly with a sudden hug, as Sans takes his hand away. It… was a surprise, but… the pressure felt… nice. “UNTIL THEN, MY POOR FRIEND, LET THE GREAT PAPYRUS RETREAVE YOU TEA AND MAKE YOU A MASTERFUL MEAL OF THE FINEST PASTA, AND ALL WILL BE WELL! NOTHING IS WRONG WHILE YOU ARE SAFE IN THE CARE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AND I HAVE ALREADY BEEN WORKING MY HARDEST, BUT I WILL WORK EVEN HARDER!”

Papyrus makes you feel safe. In a strange way you don’t remember ever feeling. You’ve never felt so… utterly untouchable as you did this moment, comfortable in his long, bone arms. Safe. Protected.

Your own arms uncurled from their secure tuck under the blanket against your chest, slowly slipping out, shaking from some combination of his cold bones, anxiety, and treading such new emotional territory.

They hover in the air, and you stare uncertainly into the chest of Papyrus’ shirt. Until you squeeze your eyes shut tight, and your shaking limbs meet after circling around his narrow, boney shape.

He stills briefly in what’s probably surprise, and you worry he’ll pull away and you tighten, face pressing against the feel of his ribs under his shirt. A quiet babble that’s meant to be a beg escapes your throat and your shaking hands fist into the back of his shirt.

Will he tell you to let go? Will he back out? Will he be creeped out?

Will he be angry?

Oh god, what if you make him angry?

You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he’d be angry at you, or what he might do if you make him angry.

Papyrus would hurt you. right?

No, he wouldn’t. Because he’s Papyrus. Right? Papyrus wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.

You would deserve it if you made him angry, though.

You don’t want to make him angry.

His grip suddenly tightens on you after you make that sound and grab his hirt like that and you flinch, because you knew it, you made him angry.

He’s angry.

You messed up.

But his grip only tightens a little bit. And it doesn’t change. It’s just a little more snug.

Nothing bad happens.

Your eyes open and you notice for a second that you’re shaking pretty bad, before chancing a terrified look up.

His grip tightens a little bit more as you meet his gaze, eyes to eye sockets. You notice he has little white dots, like Sans, but they’re very small and distant, almost unnoticeable save at such a close distance, and they glow dimmer.

You see concern and worry etched into his expression, not a trace of anger.

You feel your shaking subside almost immediately, going slack; a flurry of blubbering, strange noises escape your throat and you squeeze, pressing your face back into his chest and hug, tight, and his grip pulls closer and holds just right to make you cry harder and more unintelligible babbles fall free, talking even though no one can understand you. Not even yourself. you don’t know what you’re saying, either.

But you know you feel so safe, and he makes a strange, quiet sound back at you, a sound that is so similar to yours that again, you think maybe Sans was right and you’re the same, and you hold him and he holds you and you're just… so… happy.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety Attacks are not as uncommon as the masses quite think. Panic Attacks can easily follow the Anxiety attack. Often times, we only barely remember what happened. Most of the time, it is more like looking back upon yourself and remembering that you did something, and you do not remember your rhyme or reason if asked, you only reacted out of necessity, good idea or not, when you panicked. The Anxiety Attacks and Panic attacks we recognize easiest are the most dangerous ones, full break downs, full black outs, crying, hyperventilating, the sense of the world falling around you and being pulled from under foot and closing in all at once.

Since you weren’t comfortable talking (or, uh, signing) with the police woman, you wrote a written admission of the charges. Sans moderated it all for you with Toriel. The goat woman knew a lot about legalities, more than you or the brothers. Sans had a good grasp, too, as he’d been helping with Frisk’s recent debacle that had only ended very recently.

Toriel and Sans sat with you, the police woman waiting a room over with Papyrus, as well as Frisk and your siblings, as Toriel had brought her child with her and your siblings all adored Frisk. They directed you with signatures and writing out answers on pieces of paper, patiently explaining this and that. Toriel was good at describing the legal side, Sans was good at helping you understand the point of the legal side because a lot of it escaped you.

That happened, sometimes. Sometimes you just can’t put connections together. The whole process makes you feel a little stupid, like back in high school or middle school when you didn’t understand why this or that was wrong, or didn’t get the other kid’s jokes. But sans is really good at explaining it. He makes you feel a little less dumb.

With the papers dealing with your Parent’s crimes, came adoption forms. You were already a recognized guardian for you siblings, but legal custody would be important; you didn’t want to lose them in the system, and they didn’t want to be taken. Sans and Toriel helped you with these, too, the both of them having an even stronger concept after just going through their own adoption dealings around Frisk.

Sans played go between, giving the woman the papers and coming back with a long spiel to tell you from the police woman about what happened next, how this worked, the rules of your current situation, what would happen to your parents for now.

Now that they had all the admissions from you and your siblings, charges were going to be pressed. Your mother and father had already been under watch after Terry called 911 back at the house before you left with the skeleton boys, and Sans had already explained the situation and the assault he’d personally witnessed, but now they would be arrested seriously.

Toriel talked about getting you the same human for a lawyer that she had had during Frisk’s custody battle vs the old parents. Sans mentioned Frisk’s case worker at child services to help, too, which Toriel nodded briskly in response to.

They talked about how you would need to look capable as a caretaker, and that’s where your thoughts spiraled downward.

Toriel and Sans had left you to go with the police woman to her station just a couple minutes ago, and you were left sitting at the table, mind racing.

Until now, you had thought of your transfer as simple from _your_ world, to (temporary?) shelter in the world of _Sans and Papyrus_. But it wasn’t that simple. While your world had been isolated, a cage, this one wasn’t. You weren’t just in the bone brother’s world, you were in _the_ world now.

People had expectations for you in this world. You had to look like a capable caretaker just to keep your family together- but, in this world, that meant different than yours.

In yours, it meant watching over them, taking care of them, loving them. In this world you couldn’t just serve them tea, tuck them in, be supportive and loving.

You had to be capable according to this world. Having a job. Money. Being functional and sociable.

You’d never left your own house before. You didn’t know how to get a job. You didn’t know how to ‘go to work’ like a normal person. You didn’t have a home or house anymore, right? Even if you did, how would you pay for it? How would you keep it warm? How would you get food in it?

How would you even _get_ custody?

You were just one broken, emotionally damaged person with no home, job, life experience, or social skills who was currently in a legal battle against your own parents and currently freeloading in the bed of the first friend you’d ever had.

Who would, in their right mind, give you your siblings?

And how would you even take care of them? You can barely take care of yourself. In fact, you _can’t_ take care of yourself. Have you _seen_ yourself? You’re a fucking mess.

You’re going to lose them; they’re going to take your family away.

You’re going to fucking die in the streets, homeless and incapable and lost in a world you don’t know jack about. You’re a mess.

You’re going to have no absolute idea what to do with yourself when your family is gone and you’re going to wear down any welcome with these ‘friends’ until they’re sick of you, and you can’t possibly survive the winter on the streets, you’re such a fucking mess.

They’ll kick you out for making this mess, look at what you’ve done- _mess?-_ better hurry and try to clean up.

Where are you? What’s going on? They’re throwing you out? You’re losing custody before there’s even a submission? You made a mess? They’re throwing you out? Why? What mess?

You jump and almost scream when suddenly there are hands on your shoulders, pulling you up from your knees from the floor- when had you gotten on the floor?- and to your feet.

_Can’t even pay attention to your surroundings. Huh. Forget surviving the winter, you’ll be mugged and killed and god only knows what in the first week._

No less you’re dragged down to earth with a hard slam and your suddenly aware of how tight your chest feels and how alarmingly fast your breath is coming, between hiccups and wheezes, and your face feels wet and cold.

“HUMAN, PLEASE, CALM DOWN.” it’s obvious who that is, from both the voice and its volume- and, well, he’s standing directly in front of you, too; you’re staring straight ahead right that moment into his bright orange T-shirt.

You’re not even sitting at the table anymore, you realize, you’re standing in the kitchen and you don’t know why, but you know your fingers hurt and you’re scared. Of. What? Some part of you whispers ‘punishment’, and you don’t know why.

You look down to see why your hands hurt so much, but Papyrus stops you, and forces your head back up gently with one hand by your chin.

You meet his gaze. “JUST REMAIN CALM, HUMAN, IT’S ALRIGHT.” You feel his hand squeeze your shoulder slightly, “JUST TAKE A DEEP BREATH, IT WILL BE FINE.”

You listen, and your chest doesn’t hurt as bad as you take in a deep breath, slowing your frantic inhales down and trying to match Papyrus’ breathing instead when he tells you to.

He walks toward you, keeping his hands on your shoulders and making you back up as he does, and he walks you backwards like that until you feel your back brush the kitchen wall. He carefully leans you against it. “YOU ARE DOING WELL, HUMAN, JUST KEEP TAKING DEEP BREATHS.” He says carefully, releasing your shoulders.

Your eyes follow him, and as he walks, you hear his boots make a strange sound. you look down. Another one of your cups is shattered on the floor, and he’d just stepped on some of the glass ceramic. There’s little blemishes of red on the green broken bits and a few smears on the floor of the same red color.

What happened? Is that the ‘mess’? Did you make that? Who’s blood is that? Did you make this mess? Did you hurt someone? Is that why they’re kicking you out? Are they kicking you out?

“HUMAN. DEEP BREATHS.” A gloved hand settles on the side of your face and tilts your head quickly up and to your left, and you're looking at him instead of the broken bits of glassware. “DEEP BREATHS, FRIEND, NOTHING IS WRONG. DO NOT WORRY. DEEP BREATHS.”

He presses something warm to one of your cheeks, and you shift slightly and recognize a warm, wet wash cloth. He runs it carefully over your cheeks and the cold wetness from your eyes is gone, and your hiccups have faded again as you make your breathing, which had started going too fast again, slow down.

“VERY GOOD, VERY GOOD.” He praises gently through his high volume, bending a little to take one of your wrists. You flinch at a spark of pain and he stops, releasing you immediately. “I AM SORRY.” He says just as gentle.

He slides down on one knee, now about level with your hands- they hurt a _lot_ \- and he takes your hand slower this time. He lifts it carefully and you look down to finally see them.

Your fingers are bleeding, full of tiny cuts. He carefully dabs your hand with the rag, but you feel so cold, it doesn’t hurt anymore; you note the pain isn’t from the cuts, but the burning feeling that’s turned the tips of your fingers somewhat blue.

He sets the rag down after carefully going over the cuts on both your hands, and the boney fingers that had been holding the wet cloth are already free of the usual glove. You wonder when he took off his glove. Their tips light up with bubbly, warm orange light.

The numb pain in your hand fades and the skin gets warmer as the cuts fade, and he repeats with your other hand. “SEE? EVERYTHING IS FINE, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL MAKE EVERYTHING OKAY.”

He looks up and gives you a blinding good-guy smile. You don’t know what’s happening but you nod to him anyway. Because, well, whatever’s happening, he _is_ making it okay again.

Papyrus nods back and his smile looks a little more real, and you hadn’t even noticed it looked forced before.

He rises from the floor and moves over to the blue-ish-black pile on the counter underneath the high open cabinet where your cups are, next to the back door that would lead out of the kitchen and into the snow. It’s wide open, too, and the snow looks a mess and disturbed, like someone had rolled around and wrestled right through it.

Papyrus closes the door and it makes a solid click as the knob is released, and then he closed the open cupboard, too. He grabs the pile and you recognize his favorite blanket, which he shakes out with a ‘NYEH!’ of effort before turning back in your direction; you’d had it around you at the table, you must have put it down when you reached in the cupboards for the cup you broke. He settles it around your shoulders, and his bones feel strangely warm on your cold skin- you wonder, at that point, if you’re really so cold that Papyrus feels warm when he’s only bone. But, then again, he’s magic bone- maybe he is actually warm with body heat? You don’t know, you’ve only ever touched his gloves or clothes, or felt his fingers when he healed you that first time. His magic is warm. His bones might very well be.

You realize that you just being super freaking cold probably was the case, as he brushes a little snow off your shoulder gingerly. You notice he has snow clinging to his clothes, too, and you’re shaking, warmer-than-the-rest-of-you-from-his-magic hands move up as he adjusts the blanket around you to mimic him, brushing the snow off his clothes softly.

He looks down at the feeling of your hands on his chest and he smiles again. “DO NOT WORRY, AS IVE SAID BEFORE, COLD GOES RIGHT THROUGH A SKELETON.” He gives the blanket a final adjustment, shrouding you in its offering warmth, “THOUGH, _YOU_ LOOK A LITTLE _BLUE_ AFTER BEING IN IT.” Hinting at your distress, as ‘blue’ as well as actually turning the color. It’s a joke. You like blunt jokes. They’re always easy to get.

You wheeze once and he interprets it as a laugh at his pun- and it is. He smiles and his one bare hand pulls the glove off the other, too, setting them both down as his hands lit up with magic. It made them incredibly warm again, and he settled either bone hand on the sides of your face, which is freezing and pale from the chill, hovering, not quite touching, but sharing the warmth.

A soft noise escapes you and you lean into one of his palms instead of just letting them hover, the warmth so much nicer than the numbing cold. You enjoy the feeling of the actual bones of his hand on your face rather than them just barely ghosting as they always do when they heal. “YOU ARE FREEZING, HUMAN, THAT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.” He huffed. Your eyes opened- you hadn’t even noticed they’d closed- and he looked a little orange in the face. You felt bad making him use his magic and decided to waste as little of it as possible, reaching up to take one of his hands in your cool fingers, nuzzling your cheek into the other one so as little of the heat as possible goes unused.

You felt his magic heat up a bit more in reaction, and Papyrus produced another ‘N-NYEH’ as a quiet laugh. “DO- DO YOU FEEL BETTER NOW?” he asked carefully, and his voice’s pitch sounded a little higher than normal.

You made a quiet, soft chirp-ish noise, nodding into his palm. A weird sense of embarrassment crept up out of nowhere on you, and you weren’t sure whether it was the weird emotion or the warmth of the magic that was making your face turn pinker. You hoped it was just the warmth, rubbing your cheek further into it as if proving to yourself, ‘ _yeah, it’s just the heat_ ’.

The reaction of nuzzling him again made it feel even warmer and you heard Papyrus descended into a few nervous chuckles. You opened your eyes again, curiously, and now you were the one concerned as you lifted up your head from its lean into his palm; He’d turned as orange as a carrot and he was beading with sweat, smiling nervously off to the left at the wall.

Your hands let go and gently tapped on his chest, and when he turned back you signed, **“am I making you use too much magic?”** that’s what this was, right?

He smiled kindly, and he was still looking at your hands rather than at you as he answered, “NOPE. THE GREAT PAPYRUS HAS VERY DEEP MAGIC RESERVES, DO NOT WORRY. IT WOULD TAKE A VERY MASSIVE BATTLE TO TIRE OUT THIS AMAZING SKELETON, N-NYEHEHE!”

Your head tilted to the side curiously, and his hands followed you; he looked up at the movement but back at your hands. If it wasn’t over use, why did he look so-?

 **“Does using it strain you?”** you try, worried. What if this hurt him?

“OF COURSE NOT, SILLY HUMAN. MAGIC IS FAIRLY EASY. FOR MONSTERS.”

So it’s not that he’s using magic? Then why is he so orange?

The heat is starting to make you drowsy, and a distant part of your mind entertains the thought that maybe he’s embarrassed by ‘how fricken cute and pretty you are’, which makes you laugh, because you can’t imagine that in the least. A more bitter part of your mind points out that maybe it’s kind of awkward for him to be holding your face like that while he’s trying to warm you up and he’s probably humiliated touching something as gross as you.

You blink.

Where did that thought even come from? You weren’t normally _that_ self-deprecating.

Wow, brain, chill.

Heh. Chill. Where’s Sans at when you’re cracking _cool_ jokes when you need him?

No less, that seems a lot more plausible than option A. which makes you wilt and swallow worriedly- which catches his attention to make him glance up again. You can’t meet his eyes, uh, eye sockets now and keep your eyes down. **“You- you don’t have to do this- _this_ anymore. If you. Don’t want to.”** You motion at ‘ _this’,_ to his hands, in explanation.

You hear him clear his throat- _which is kinda weird because he doesn’t have one woah-_ and he looks around to his sides, before asking, “DO YOU WANT ME TO? UH, STOP, THAT IS?”

Left brain says you should probably say yes, because it could avoid- uh, something. You’re not sure what that something is because, well, your head’s getting kind of fuzzy. You just know left brain is logically avoiding something that makes you nervous.

Right brain says say no. because you like this in some weird way and you, again, don’t know why. For a reason that’s very, very similar to the one that makes you nervous. Right brain knows you don’t want to tell him to stop, despite your nerves.

They bicker, and neither side wins so honesty works best. Do you want him to stop? As said, your right brain knows the answer.

So with an increase of redness glowing on your cheeks, you shake your head the smallest bit. No, you don’t want him to.

A weird nervous smile you understand even less than your own mingled thoughts spreads on Papyrus’ skull, and his face is glowing even brighter with his strange skeleton blush.

You feel a smile turning the corners of your own expression upward, with a tiny quiver like a start of a laugh. Your hands reach up slowly and cup on either side of his again.

Papyrus lets out a funny laugh and his smile gets bigger and weirdly shy. You think its weird to see Papyrus so shy, because he’s normally the most confident guy you’d ever seen. Not that youd seen a lot of people, but that is include any confident superhero youd seen on TV. Papyrus’ confidence even rivaled the robotic star Mettaton.

You get a really, really weird idea that pops into your head from the direction of right brain. Left brain starts throwing a million concerns at you, a mile a minute, on why it’s a bad _thought_ let alone a bad _idea_ , listing a million ways it could go wrong.

You let right brain take the wheel for once and you ignore all your worries and fears for one instance in your life, and one of your hands pulls one of Papyrus’ off your face.

He looks a little startled and concerned, and his magic flickers out like a light, and he’s about to pull back, before you press the tips of his fingers to your lips.

You watch his orange colored face set on fire with a vibrant color and his magic sorta turns back on like an electricity surge and he just stares with a new, bright orange glow coming from one of his eyes, bubbling like liquid fire. Your lips feel really warm now; his magic is double the heat and glowing from his fingertips.

“omg.”

You jump _ridiculously_ high and Papyrus quite literally drops, falling over in surprise, right to the tile floor. You jump so high, you almost fall over and join him.

But _of course_ , there’s one smiley trash bag standing in the doorway like he’s been there the whole time. And he probably had been, knowing him. But no, Sans wasn’t _enough_ , the world decided, because you can see Fahima, Undyne, and Alphys- who would have been the _omg_ -er in this situation- leaning around the edge of the opening.

“You got _moves_ , bucko.” Sans states lightly, like you aren’t about to faint from a blood rush. “You got Papyrus _falling_ head over heels for you.”

“SANS!” Papyrus is on his feet immediately. He is particularly shrill.

“She’s so fucking _cute_ though.” Undyne attempts a whisper which does not succeed. “Alphy, that was amazing, I totally owe you that 20g.”

“I-I told you.” Alphys whispers back a little better, but it seems she is just as terrible a whisperer. “Th-those two are a total O- OTP.”

You don’t know what an OTP is. Or why they were betting on it.

“I understand why you ship them now.” Fahima nods in respect, looking at Alphys like she’s a genius guru. Well, you suppose, the reptile lady _is_ a genius.

You decide now is a good time to throw the blanket over your head and silently steam from embarrassment like a piece of broccoli in a vegetable steamer, still not sure what the fuck you’d done that had cut up your hands or gotten you and Papyrus into the cold in the first place.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is a first time for everything, but also a second. infinity goes in both directions, no one thing happens only a single time.
> 
> in which our dear reader didn't manage to leave on the group date on the first chance, but has a second time to leave the nest a first time.

Your curled up in your usual corner of the skeleton brother's house, watching in satisfaction as Alphys, Mettaton, and Fahima speak in what almost seems like another language- and, at that, one of the many you don't know. they're talking about robotics. That's all you know. That, and Mettaton keeps saying he wants to try and do Fahima's make up.

Your content, even though the theories of mechanical robotics is a language you'll probably never learn sufficiently, to listen to them talk. Alphys' stutters, Mettaton's robotic humming tone, and Fahima's lovely lilt. you wonder if your sister can sing. you know she hums sometimes. hm. you trace a square pattern in the carpet with your fingers as you contemplate it, up, left, down, right, repeat.

the peace of the moment is interrupted suddenly when a door on the landing slams open loudly, startling everyone including yourself to look up.

Undyne comes running out, carrying Papyrus like a stick over her head, as if a tall solid bone skeleton is weightless. then again, you wonder briefly, how much does a skeleton even weigh? what about a magic skeleton? does the magic make him lighter or heavier?

Following Undyne, a parade of excited children; Frisk from next door, Aloe and Maverick. they're all giggling, though of course as the only not mute, Maverick's is the only audible laughter aside from the booming chuckles of Undyne, as they all march like troops does the stairs.

Undyne marches right up to you, grinning an intimidating sharp-toothed smile, before deploying Papyrus on his feet like some sort of stiff flag. Papyrus looks as confused as you feel.

Maverick runs and pushes on the back of Papyrus' legs to make him stumble forward, just the same as Aloe and Frisk are both grabbing your hands ad dragging you from the safety of the corner and to your feat, leaving behind the warmth of the blanket still on the floor. if it weren't children, you'd probably not be so okay with that move.

"HELLO, HUMAN." Papyrus greets, sounding just as unsure of what's happening as he looks. "NICE TO SEE YOU?"

You offer him a confused smile, and then a small wave.

"OH MY GOD, you punk! what did we _just_ talk about?" Undyne slaps papyrus on the back, with produced the sound of loud skin on a hard surface. it makes you wince, as does papyrus, who actually felt it.

"WE WERE TALKING ABOUT YOUR FIRST DATE WITH ALPHYS?" Papyrus is no less confused.

you hear Alphys squeak in embarrassment, and although you are now only more confused, you still cant help that your shoulders bounce with a silent laugh.

"yeah! and I said I asked for help to get my date- from frisk! to deliver my note!- and then I said, 'WELL ILL HELP _YOU_ GET ONE TOO!'"

Papyrus blinked. "I DO NOT HAVE A FRISK NOTE TO GIVE TO THE SMALLER HUMAN TO GIVE TO ANYONE, UNDYNE."

"You idiot!" Undyne smacked him again, "NOT FRISK! _IM_ HELPING YOU THIS TIME!- uh, I mean, _we_ are!" she corrected herself when all the children pouted. "we're gunna help you! get a date! no letter!"

a resounding chorus of 'ooooooh's like a bunch of middle schoolers follows, and you glance to the source where the trio previous enraptured in scientific mechanics looks like they're watching the proposal scene of an anime.

"GETTING A DATE? NOW? UNDYNE I AM COLOSSALLY UNPREPARED! I DONT EVEN HAVE THE GREAT PAPYRUS' DATING RULE BOOK, OR- OR THE SPECIAL CLOTHES!"

Papyrus seems distressed. you make a small noise of concern.

Undyne shushes him sharply with a glare, and then turns to you. "human! do you like pap's clothes?"

You look at papyrus. he's wearing a crop top and hot pants under his quite short torn shorts. these are, as he called them enthusiastically, his 'aboveworld armor'. he said they're good at defending from 'haters'. he also said he and sans made them together. the crop top say 'im so cool.' on it in what looks like cheap fabric paint. he also has his usual gloves and his scarf.

he looks like papyrus.

you smile. **"beautiful.** **"**

your spectating crowd of robot professionals all wheeze and clench their hearts over their chests. Undyne looks thoroughly pleased and the kids are giggling to their hearts content. Papyrus is as orange as you have _ever_ seen him, jaw slack and sockets wide.

"don't just sit there, bro." Sans comes walking in from the kitchen. what a sneak! "hurry up. don't let a babe like that get away so easy." sans gives you a proud grin when he meets your eye, shining with a weird sense of gratitude and happiness. It makes you happy, your not sure why. he must just be glad you think papyrus is as great as he does. yes, you decide, that is it. and it makes you even happier.

Maverick hurriedly pushed on Papyrus' legs again, and the tall skeleton snapped out of it in time for sans to vanish again into the upstairs hall. you didn't doubt the weird short skeleton still had his way of knowing everything that happened, even if he wasn't in the room.

You returned to looking at the taller of the brothers as he straightened, clearing out his- _nonexistent_ \- throat with a couch into a closed fist. "H-HUMAN! I WOULD LIKE TO REQUEST YOUR COMPANY FOR A DATE!"

a tense and excited, dramatic silence unfolded as the room held its breath.

You considered.

Terry went on dates with his boyfriend, but what did they do on them? did your mother and father date? you don't think they go on dates anymore. back in high school, the other teenagers practically dated everyone at the same time. they have dates on TV, too; in fact, you'd seen a weird 'speed dating' Mettaton show. except everyone dated only Mettaton.

what, exactly, is a date?

well, Papyrus said company. he wants your company. you don't see why it needed to be a date for that, you'd happily accompany Papyrus. he's great. and he's asking you on a date.

You smile and nod. **"id love to spend time with you, Papyrus. a date sounds nice."**

its almost like you delivered him a critical blow to his- _also nonexistent-_ gut. all the air just left him and he teeter on the balls of his feet, and you were worried he'd start to melt from the shade and heat of the orange on his face. there were 3 pairs of squeals and 3 excited children bouncing around you and you couldn't help but grin when you swore you heard Sans say 'good job bro' from somewhere in the back of the house. Undyne cackled victoriously, all but slamming something into Papyrus' chest.

"NOW THAT YOU HAVE A DATE, PAP, I GOT YOU SOMETHING SPECIAL! your last book was trash! this is a much better dating book! and its written by a human! you gotta learn about your date's way! how the humans do it!" Undyne cheered, affectionately 'patting'- more like _pounding_ papyrus' shoulder.

"oh this is just splendid, darlings! I happen to have the perfect place in mind for you special night! it is quite a romantic place, I do say." the flamboyant robot has risen from the carpet, posing dramatically. " _my_ restaurant, of course! I wont even charge you, aren't you glad to know such a star, darlings?"

leaving the house?

"o-oh! me- me and Undyne can help you get dressed! an- and, uhm, you're make up!" Alphys was suddenly at your side, bouncing on your toes.

makeup? dressed?

"SANS! HELP YOUR BROTHER LOOK NICE, YOU SMILEY CREEP! MTT'S PLACE IS FRICKEN FANCY! AND IT OPENS SOON!"

fancy? public?

 _now_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit it was short yes
> 
> im still trying to rewrite a frick ton of stuff from my missing flashdrive
> 
> but heres something, yeah?
> 
> it was going to be longer and keep going but ive made you all wait long enough so here's this much for now


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> papyrus gets a new dating book and boy are these nerds cute.
> 
> yeah, no deep insightful summary today.

Mettaton, Undyne and Alphys spend several long minutes- at least half, maybe a full, hour- picking out things for you to wear.

Alphys picks out big fluffy pink things that Undyne also likes, but Mettaton complains and holds up a 'sexy' night dress and Undyne likes that, too, so she's screaming angrily in conflict about it.

In the long run, you are uncomfortable with the whole dress up thing.

This feels like the way Luia always dressed you up and displayed you in the mirror. you don't even like dresses- Luia is probably why you don't like them, in all honesty. No less, you've been stuffed into a poofy, flowery white dress with pastel pink accents and Undyne is doing your hair and Mettaton your make up and Alphys your nails. Mettaton apparently caries all this kind of stuff around with him. you are not surprised.

You don't say much- or anything at all, as they admire they're handy work, feeling like your going to puke as you try to still a twisting anxiety in your belly. your face hides anything that would give you away, trained by your mother in this situation, and your discomfort takes a backseat. _whatever, its fine._ your mind assures.

Undyne picks you up neatly and charges down the stairs with you over her shoulder, stands you neatly at the bottom of the stairs, before running back up to the top.

Alphys stands beside you, smiling. "y-you- you look v-very n-nice." she commented kindly.

You smile shakily, but your fingers are twisting too tight in the cloth to sign anything back, and your eyes relocate the floor after a few seconds, avoiding her gaze.

"a-are you- you okay?" Alphys asks, and a short glance back up at her confirms her worried tone is also in her expression. you smile bigger and nod in assurance. Alphys is a genius, and she doesn't appear to buy you out, but it doesn't matter; Undyne is running back, with someone _else_ on her shoulder.

Papyrus is deposited directly in front of you, in a jostled, cute new crop top that proudly proclaims 'worlds coolest dude', another hand made shirt it would seem, and jeans; he has a short overskirt with a pretty orange pattern that matches his gloves and his scarf, the same material. his boots look like a different, nicer pair. you like the key chain with a few trinkets hooked to the belt loops of his pants on his left hip. you see a spaghetti charm and a Mettaton charm and you giggle a little. It's a very papyrus-like outfit.

the tall skeleton looks like the whole world is rushing past him way too fast, barely noticing your in front of him for a second, then smiles gladly when he catches up. you smile back too. **"you look even cooler. I like it."** you motion to his outfit.

Papyrus beams- literally; his face is producing a fair amount of light from a glowing orange color. he's about to say something, but Undyne shushes him loudly. "save it for the date, Romeo! MTT, WHERE ARE YOU?" she shouts over her shoulder.

"coming, darling!" Mettaton reappears from upstairs, phone to his ear. "the limo has arrived, its outside!" he says in the most delighted manor, hanging up cheerfully.

_Limo?_

you almost laugh when you see the limo, because Mettaton himself is painted all over it.

"stylish." Sans comments dryly. when did he get out here?

"isn't it?" Mettaton is also beaming, though less literally than papyrus. he takes sans comment seriously. Sans doesn't correct him.

"GET IN, PUNKS!" Undyne makes a show of shoving Papyrus into the back seat, plucking you up- and scowling at your minimal weight ("I need to get some muscle on your scrawny body, brat!")- and all but dropping you in the back seat.

the door is closed.

silence.

the car pulls off.

silence.

you wonder if the date has started.

Uncertain, you look to Papyrus.

he's avidly reading his newest book. _Step By Step Guide On Dating: What You Need To Know From Asking Someone Out To The Birds And Bees Get Busy_

hm. If being 'asked out' is step one, you must be passed that. you wonder what step your on. you scoot slowly up to Papyrus' side, hoping to get a look at where he's reading so far and what step your on, maybe.

Papyrus notices and lowers his book a little for your shorter height, and said, "THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALWAYS HAPPY TO SHARE."

he's already on _Chapter 3: First Date Preparedness_

you spend a few minutes reading with him in quiet. nice clothes, be clean, carrying extra cash, bring a-

a gift.

You and Papyrus simultaneously read the line, apparently. because his hands and the book fall into his lap and he stared across the limo, shocked, at the same time you sit up straight in equal shock.

"HUMAN! YOU AND I ARE ALREADY FAILING OUR DATE!"

heavens help it, hes right.

you make a short grunt when you get an idea, and shuffle backwards. you carefully break threads with your recently-filed nails until you've pulled off one of the knitted flower details from the dress, and then tie a loop of more tread to the back of the flower. you lean over Papyrus' lap and carefully attach it to the chain, beaming proudly. a good present, right? another charm?

Papyrus looks a little funny when you lean off his lap, but the weird expression is quickly replaced with wonder as he smiles at the- actually kinda pathetic- 'gift'. he makes an excited noise and busys himself with his waist chain for a moment, finally freeing up what looks like a skull and cross bones; it has a curiously long charm chain, lopped around to make it shorter, but when papyrus unwinds it, it turns out its probably meant to just be a childs' necklace; the cheap kind you might win in a crane game at a bowling alley.

Papyrus happily adjusts it to a good length and takes your hands, wrapping it around your wrist. the skin is still a little red from all the damage its taken, and you feel the slightest roughness of otherwise smooth, warm bone as his thumb runs over a random scar on your hand, before releasing it.

You smile at the skeleton-esc trinket as you examine it, giggling, and lean over and kiss his cheek, too happy to be contained for a second, then hold your hand up and wave it a bit like testing the charm that it wouldn't break or fall off.

you don't need to look at papyrus to know hes blushing, because you can see the orange cast on the interior of the limo itself from his glow. he joins your giggles with slightly startled nye-hehehehs and you both end up giggling and talking about the book's early chapters until you finally arrive at the location where, according to chapter 5, the date officially starts.

DATING... START.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me this is so short
> 
> but i am finding it hard to draw any inspiration to re-write all these chapters.
> 
> i will but
> 
> man im so sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally ordering from the alcoholic menu is fun
> 
> yet again no deep insights

The two of you almost step out of the car into a crowd.

The limo is, after all, painted with Mettaton- an international star- all over it. people are flocking to get a look when it stops outside- uh- wherever you are.

Papyrus leans to the window that leads to the front seats and asks the driver to find a better spot with fewer people, maybe around back.

Watching all the people outside the tinted windows has made this whole thing seem… much less fun. You want to go home. You know they can’t see you, but, they’re still there. You give a startled squeak when some man puts his face to the window, trying to see inside, before the car switches back on and starts to move.

You’re practically melting into Papyrus’ hip at this point, looking around with wide eyes.

He puts a gloved hand on your shoulder, “Do not worry, Human. As a student of the Royal Guard, I am an excellent body guard! I will keep you safe and away from strange humans! Although, I do not think they would harm you, so you are already safe.”

Papyrus is a wonder at calming you down, and his smile is the most encouraging thing ever. Theres no way you can blow off this date with him. He’s looking forward to it.

Out behind the place, there is significantly no people, and that makes you much more comfortable about getting out into the world.

It feels… incredibly strange. You’re out in the world. Maybe your own tiny world had moved from your parents to the skeleton brothers, but, this was far outside the realm of your reach. The open sky over head, the city around you, the people in the distance…

Its slightly overwhelming.

Papyrus touches your shoulder, and you jump, but he smiles at you calmly. You move closer to him as the limo leaves and he puts his hand on your far shoulder to hug you into his side, and you feel safer.

The two of you walk around the building, and by the time you reach the front again, the crowds have fanned away and have moed into the parking lot, as if trying to find Mettaton out there. You and Papyrus giggle a little and head inside.

Mettaton had given Papyrus a pink envelope, which Papyrus then handed to the man at the front in the fancy tux. Said human man floundered after reading it and quickly called a staff member to sow the two of you up to the “VIP level”.

The second stranger led you to an elevator of glass, and you and Papyrus both leaned onto it to watch the restaurant levels pass and pass by, awed.

At the top floor, you stepped out amongst… the fanciest people you’d ever seen. You stuck as close as you could to Papyrus without fusing your bodies atomically. Even you know that neither of you are dressed formally enough for this.

You’re almost certain you saw Johnny Depp…

The two of you are led to table at this long bar with a grill. There are chefs playing around with fire and cooking, and the both of you are staring as you sit until you get your menus.

Papyrus whines and you look up at him, signing if he is alright.

“…THERE IS NO SPAGHETTI.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

Instead you giggle, kicking your feet under your seat. “ _I'm sure Mettaton just forget. You should remind him to add it to the menu. He would be thankful._ ”

Papyrus beams. “OH, YOU ARE MOST CLEVER, HUMAN! NO HIGH CLASS RESTAURANT COULD EVER NOT HAVE SPAGHETTI, I WILL HAVE YOU WARN METTATON OF THIS MISTAKE!”

You giggle until a waiter steps up…

It’s Undyne, with a fake mustache?

She looks amazing in a tux.

“Good afternoon, punks!!! What’ya want to drink???”

You blink when you here a dramatic nooooo and look over your shoulder. In the far distance, across the room, you see Mettaton, Alphys, Fahima, Terry and even Sans. Mettaton is back in his simple square shape and is being held back by Fahima and Alphys. Something like ‘if she greets people like that she’ll ruin my businesses’ reaches you. You worry briefly where the kids are before Papyrus starts to speak.

“HELLO, WAITER! HUMAN, DO YOU HAVE A DRINK PREFERANCE?”

You tense and look back at the first page of the menu you’d been looking at- a ton of fancy drinks or things you’d never heard of. You don’t talk normally, but your mouth is dry.

You point at a pretty picture hopefully, no idea what it is- looks like a fancy coffee.

Papyrus leans over to read it, “The human would like a-” pause. “a ‘Blow Job’.”

Silence.

You face is twisted in confusion and glowing red. Papyrus- innocent Papyrus who apparently isn’t _completely_ innocent, oh, even his face is glowing slightly. More literally.

Your waiter- Undyne?- is holding her breath and trying not to burst with a laugh you can feel. You can hear with your eagle hearing Sans chuckling and the table slowly cracks up.

You put the menu down slowly on the counter and tighten your fingers in the cloth of the dress your wearing, feeling your chest expand and eyes squeeze shut slightly. Ten minutes in and you’d already fucked up awkwardly and people- even if it was people you knew- were laughing at you.

You want to go home.

“HOW ADVENTUROUS, HUMAN!” Papyrus suddenly pitches, and you glance up at him, he’s grinning at his menu energetically. “SUCH A STRANGE DRINK, I HAVE CERTAINLY NEVER HAD ONE! PERHAPS I WILL ALSO HAVE A STRANGE ONE… STRANGE WAITER PERSON, I WILL ALSO ORDER A…” he squints at a name, “SCREAMING ORGASM!”

He looks at you only for a second, grinning and orange, and you can’t help giggling as he nyehehehes. Undyne practically bolts, struggling not to laugh.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> honestly, what deep insight could i possibly give you?
> 
> they're drinking Screaming Orgasms and Blow Jobs for christ's sake.
> 
> if you havent, as a bartender myself, i recommend you ask for these next time your at a bar. good shit right there. this my friends is how you properly drink a blow job, by the wat, for u little cocktail-shot virgins who thought these were made-up drinks. (warning, Screaming Orgasms are pretty top notch on a Vodka. just havea regular Orgasm if ur a weakling. Undyne wont judge you for being a chicken.)

You have decided dates are fun.

It was really, really fun.

The waiter who came with your drinks wasn’t Undyne; it was an actual restaurant worker. A cheerful human woman- who looked a lot prettier than you, wow, she was lovely- with both your drinks and smiling happily.

“HELLO! Welcome to MTT’s STAR PLATTER RESTAURANT! We’re glad to have you here at today’s VIP STAR PLATFORM, I hope we treat you well! I see the both of you have ordered from the Puzzle Menu Date-Night Romance Magic Challenge section!”

The chipper woman placed each of your drinks in front of you. Yours was a smooth, 3-layered shot drink topped with whip cream, just like the coffee-esc-looking beverage on your menu. Papyrus’ is the color of Chocolate milk, but looks slightly creamy, as the whip cream dissolves quicker into it.

“I'm sure you know how to play the game!” she continues, placing two more shots of clear looking water next to each of your shots. You wonder if they’re expresso’s and not coffee? Is that why they come in shot glasses? Your not sure what the difference is. You just know they come smaller. You’ve never had either.

“OH, NO, HUMAN, WE DO NOT! THE GREAT PAPYRUS LOVES PUZZLES, PLEASE SHOW ME HOW TO PLAY!” Papyrus looked quite excited, and when he asked you if you would play, you couldn’t help but smile and nod.

“Alright, darlings!” the woman cheered. She stood straight, “stand in front of your drinks, like so, and cross your arms behind your back, just like this.”

You both concede quickly, Papyrus is grinning excitedly as she continues. “Now, to play the Date Night game, you have to be quick! No hands, now! First couple to put their cup down wins the free round next, your competitors are right over there.” She motions across the walking area to the second parallel table. Two other people stand in the same position as the both of you, their waiter beside them, smiling. The one on the left waves happily, and its… obviously not a nervous looking Alphys with a hat and wig, a competitive looking Undyne with a mustache at her side. You and Papyrus both wave, too, delighted, though you more so shyly. You feel as nervous as Alphys. You still cant tell if Papyrus recognizes them. “You reach down, grab the cup with your mouth, and stand up to knock the drink back! Dropping the cup or not drinking it all will dis-QUALIFY you! May the most romantic couple win!”

The waiters exchange a glance, and Papyrus cheered, “HUMAN, YOU AND I CAN DO THIS! AFTER ALL, WE ARE TWO GREAT AND AMAZING PEOPLE! NO ONE IS MORE AMAZING!”

You grin, beaming, just as the pair of waiters call a ‘now’ and _fwoosh_.

You may have an advantage as you’ve played this game with tea with Terry before, or something similar, on a dare. However, once you have the cup between your lips and back- it _burns_. You had no idea coffee tasted so BITTER! Its like liquid fire! But COLD?!

You almost hack and cough the cup out as you swallow, already head down to put it down again like the tea game.

The loud clack of Undyne and Papyrus’ shot glasses on the counter follows at the same moment exactly, and Alphys, coughing and hacking with you, follows after.

Papyrus is trying to clear his throat, shaking his head, when you look up. Your waiter is beaming, “congratulations, team-” she glances down at the paper on her waiter’s platter, “Blow job and Screaming orgasm!” you’re trying to swallow down the water glass to wash back the burning flavor. You almost spit it out at the names, wheezing, and Papyrus laughs nervously around what sounds like a raw throat from his own drink.

She tells you your next drink is on free, and will be served Romantically. You see Alphys being guided back toward the other group’s table, Undyne rubbing her back and trying not to giggle, as Papyrus asks that his next drink just be milk, and you nod wildly in agreement.

The waitress giggles and heads on her way.

Papyrus looks to you, beaming, “WOW, HUMAN, YOU ARE VERY GOOD AT-” he pauses, trying to keep a straight face, “TAKING BLOW JOBS.”

You hiss in embarrassment, floundering with your hands, signing fingers struggling out a **“your good at taking a screaming orgasm yourself!** ”

You hear in the distance Sans ask something about how ‘strong’ those drinks were as you and Papyrus grin, trying to hold your laughs, but you both start cracking up quickly. You don’t understand what that meant, ’strong’, but Mettaton just says something about ‘the magic infusion’ and making them ‘work faster’. You can barely hear Undyne agreeing in a cheerful, happier-than-normal voice, over the sound of you and Papyrus laughing.

You slowly forget that their there over the course of the night, as Papyrus orders vocally what you both had picked from the menu for you, and you both cheerfully enjoy Mettaton-shaped steaks on plates surrounded in rose petals, and your milks are served on platters with edible flower arrangements.

You’d left on this date fairly late in the day, and as you two near finishing your food, the sun has set and the stars had come out above the glass ceiling of the restaurant floor- which is when the ‘band’ strikes up and a glowing dance floor catches the whole of the VIP level’s eye. A ghost introduces himself as Napstablook, and introduces his performance pals, Shyren, Mad Dummy, Lemonbread, and then you are WOWED.

That there is a talented group of monsters. No wonder they play a VIP room.

Then you spot Mettaton’s square cube shape rolling excited around the front of the stage and hear him screaming, “ _You’re a star, blooky!”_

You’re so distracted, Papyrus whispering _incredibly_ quiet for him in your ear almost kills you.

“While they are not looking, want to go out and have our own fun?”

Your head turns to look at your skeletal companion slowly, stunned. He looks a little like he had to put a _lot_ of his force and energy into talking that quietly into your ear, and he’s still just as close to you, grinning as he watches Mettaton being joined by a yelling Undyne and stuttering Alphys, also cheering ‘blooky’ on. The ghost is having a nice time, from his starry eyes and near-tears.

Papyrus looks back to you, grinning and flushed slightly orange. You nod, mesmerized.

Papyrus can’t help an excited giggle and takes your hand. You worry briefly about paying before remembering Mettaton said he’d call it free, and wish you’d remembered to thank him as Papyrus starts to head the two of you off.

You look at the group table as you had for the door, where Sans still is. He winks and signs at you with a grin. **“Enjoy the world.** ”

You remember him telling you, the first bad time they’d seen your injuries and pitiful body.

_The world's a big place. Your little world sucks in comparison. Take it from a guy who’s been trapped in a lesser world for his entire life and just got up here a year ago. This place is big, and it’s worth seeing._

You’ve seen more in tonight then you’d ever expected, hoped, or dreamed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating Master Papyrus

Hand and hand with Papyrus, the two of you cut out of the dark- and kind of horrifying parking lot of the restaurant, Papyrus guiding you with a cheerful confidence despite the anxiety the night gives you, with its dark corners and endlessness.

You know so little of the world that you actually forgot the name of your city until you saw it on the sign as you entered a strange, busy place that tripped your nerves up- Coastal City Scenic Monorail.

You tug Papyrus’ handa little for his attention, and when you get it, you point at the sign and ask him what that is.

“A MONORAIL, MY HUMAN?” something in you does a flutter as you nod. He beams as he stops- you realize you’re in a line. he lets go of your hand long enough to sign it for you, saying, “A MONORAIL IS LIKE- A TRAIN! HUMANS INVENTED IT TO GET AROUND CITIES QUICKLY. IT IS LIKE, A VERY FAST BUS, BUT ON A SET RAMP, LIKE A ROLLER COASTER. THEY’RE LIKE SHINY SUBWAYS, BUT ABOVE GROUND, I LIKE THEM BETTER. IF I WANTED TO BE UNDERGROUND, I WOULD HAVE STAYED IN SNOWDIN!” he signs many of the words when he sees your expression of uncertainty about a few of them.

You grin and chuckle.

The sudden loud woosh, however, makes you jump and seep closer into his side, re taking his hand. Papyrus, unfazed, holds your hand with a certain strong, safe hold that does a number to help your nerves, you have to admit, and moves with the line just as confidently, and pulls you into the long tube-like thing apparently called a Monorail.

He finds a more empty card and a big window and motions you to take the inside seat next to the window, and sits down next to you.

Someone says something over the intercom, but you’re listening to Papyrus instead- “I CAT WAIT FOR YOU TO SEE THIS. FRISK TOOK US ON A MONORAIL LIKE THIS IN OUT FIRST MONTH ABOVE GROUND. IT WAS DAY TIME, AND A DIFFERENT CITY- BUT I'M SURE THIS WILL BE JUST AS NICE! IT’S A GREAT WAY TO SEE THE CITY! THE WHOLE TRIP, I THINK, IS 30 MINUTES! THIS IS HOW THE GREAT PAPYRUS GOES TO WORK EVERY DAY, YOU KNOW! I CAN NEVER TIRE OF THE DAY OR SUNSET VIEW!”

Just as he finishes, you feel the world shift, and jump, and out the window you see the world start to slip away. as you enter the dark, horror-movie-lit tunnel, you feel like you’ve wandered into a roller coaster and look around like to find an exit.

But it barely takes a minute to leave the tunnel.

The minute you do, your somewhat glued to the window.

You’d never imagined you lived so close to the sea- you knew you weren’t far, the weatherman always talk about sea breezes, but it’s right in the cities’ back yard. A massive, almost full moon highlights waves with white, and lights up a soft night mist floating at the edge of the city and the stretch of pale that must be the beach sand. The lights of the city are small orbs and big orbs, the glow and shine of many colors and shades, and there’s something between the water and the horizon, another city on land, an island, maybe.

Papyrus tugs your shoulder softly, “LOOK- MT EBOTT.”

He points you to the far left. All the way out there you see a soft mountain range rise toward the starry heavens and the clouds, and one of those mountains stands taller than all the others. You assume that’s the one. Its top is slightly snow capped, and you’d be surprised if you couldn’t touch the stars from the top, it rises so high the clouds conceal the very tip.

“I ALWAYS TRY TO SEE OUR HOUSE FROM HERE, BUT I CANT SEEM TO FIND IT!” Papyrus jokes, and when you look over to him, you see he’s actually scanning that book again.

Chapter 12: Conversation and Small talk.

You can see the part he must be on because it says jokes are good. You’re proven right as he does what the immediate section after that says: “WOWIE, IT’S REALLY PRETTY- JUST LIKE YOU!”

Compliments.

Even though it’s just what the book tells him to do, you feel your face flush and quickly look back out, pressing your hot face to the chilled glass with a stuttered giggle.

The scenery has changed as you’ve taken curves and sped along, and no matter how far back you tilt your head, you can’t see the tops of the sky scrapers as you rush past them, right next to them. The low clouds swallowed them, like they’re supports of some sort of cloudy ceiling. The moon glows through them, and the lights of the skyscrapers reflect along the bottom of the misty wisps and make it glow.

This is beautiful.

“UH- ARE YOU DEAD? BECAUSE- YOU LOOK LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME!”

Not just you, but other patrons in the cart, turn their heads to look at Papyrus with wide eyes.

He flushes. “OH- DID I NOT SAY THAT RIGHT?”

You look down at the book. Ah, yes. Pick up lines.

You can’t help but not grin, taking all your willpower not to start laughing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating: end

Your date with Papyrus is perhaps one of the greatest nights of your life.

He takes you to any place he can in the city. He shows you everything you’ve never had, everything you’ve ever missed out from being locked up in that house. At every stop of the monorail you get to do something new with him.

You take walks in the park. and look at the stars from the top of a sky scrapper. And take a walk though an art exhibit in town from Russia. And try blueberries, something you’ve never had, in a community garden Papyrus helps you sneak into that he say’s Frisk’s goat dad, Fluffybuns, runs. And stand in a library for the city’s university, the biggest collection of books you’ve ever imagined. Papyrus says Sans works here, as he does a thousand and one other places. Speaking of Sans, you spotted him earlier in the park. He was running a hot dog stand. He put one on you head and winked, but after you took your eyes off him for a second only to look back, he- and his stand- were gone.

The last stop on the Monorail was the Coast City Beach.

Your date with Papyrus ran so long, the sun was starting to rise. Papyrus was excited.

“COME, OVER HERE!” He pointed to a round, flat rock, and patted you to climb up and sit with him after walking on the sandy beach for a while. “MY DATING GUIDE SAYS SUNRISES AND SUNSETS ARE PERFECT! THE BEST ROMANTIC AMBIANCE!”

So far you were both on chapter 22 of his hand book, and it certainly hadn’t steered you wrong! You were having the best time of your life.

So you climbed up that rock and sat, smooshed close to Papyrus to fit. He flipped back a couple chapters to a diagram, and carefully copied the way it showed you how to d the ‘casual arm sitting position’, and you cant help giggling as Papyrus puts his arm around your shoulder.

He closes up the book as the sky continues to lighten, and you lean comfortably into his side. You’ve stayed up whole nights many times before- normally, insomnia or paranoia. This- oh, this was so much better. You feel the surface of his chest under his date-clothes shirt heat up just a bit as you let your head lean against it, and Papyrus made the softest little noise in the back of his non-existent throat. His arm tightened a little bit more.

You watched the sun rise in an awe, the beautiful fiery colors spilling both up and down from the horizon. Like the see staining red with blood as the sky filled with pinks and the clouds glowed with orange and gold.

“I STILL CANT BELIEVE THE SKY CAN BE SO BEAUTIFUL…” Papyrus murmured. “I ALWAYS WAKE UP BEFORE IT CAN RISE, NOW. THE FIRST TIME WE EVER LEFT THE UNDERGROUND, IT WAS A SUNRISE… I WATCH IT EVERY DAY…”

You crooned the softest noise to him, and your hands lifted. **“Is it as good as you hoped?** ”

Papyrus marveled at the scene ahead, the son half about the sea. “UNDERGROUND, THERE WAS NOTHING LIKE THIS… I COULDNT HAVE IMAGINED IT… WE HAD THE WISHING ROOM, IN WATERFALL.  THE ANCESTORIAL STORIES SAID THE GLOWING CRYSTALSWERE JUST LIKE THE STARS… BUT EVEN THAT WAS PALE IN COMPARISON, I THINK. SANS LOVES THE STARS, THE REAL ONES. I USED TO FIND HIM IN THE WISHING ROOM WHENEVER HE HAD… BAD DAYS… NOW, SOMETIMES, HE’LL GO AND KIDNAP THE HUMAN FRISK FROM THEIR MOTHERS AND SPEND WHOLE NIGHTS WATCHING THE STARS… I THINK THE STARS, TOO, ARE BEAUTIFUL… BUT THIS… THIS… THERE WAS NOTHING LIKE A SUNSET OR A SUNRISE IN THE UNDERGROUND. I COULD NOT HAVE IMAGINED SOMETHING SO…”

He stops and looks down, and for a moment, you wait, before finally looking up at him. his face is a glow, and in your own personal opion, the glow of his face- it rivals the sunrise. You think it even wins the rivalry.

“I COULD NOT HAVE IMAGINED, BEING SO HAPPY UP HERE.” He continues and looks back up at the sunrise.

You probe him to continue with a finger, curious. “ **You didn’t think you’d be happy up here?** ”

Papyrus shakes his head. “NO… NO… I KNEW ID COME UP AND BE HAPPY. I WOULD BE Papyrus, FRIEND OF ALL HUMANS, MASTER SURFACE CHEF… MONSTER MASCOT… YOU KNOW… GREAT PAPYRUS-Y THINGS.” Then his exuberance softened. “BUT, UP HERE… A LOT OF THINGS HAVE… CHANGED. ITS… NOT WHAT I EXPECTED WHEN I THOUGHT OF BEING HAPPY ON THE SURFACE. I THOUGHT OF THE GREAT HUMAN THINGS… DRIVING MY RED CONVERTIBLE DOWN AN EXTRAVAGANT BRIDGE, THE WIND IN MY HAIR… AND I DID THAT! IT WAS GREAT!”

You don’t ask about the hair.

“BUT… WHILE WE WERE UP HERE… I WAS HAPPY. THOSE THINGS, LIKE BECOMING THE ROYAL GUARD… THEY WERE HAPPY. BUT IT WAS THE OTHER THINGS. LIKE, THE RELIEF OF THE BAD THINGS, I THINK. THE HUMAN FRISK… BECOMING SAFE… AND GETTING THEYRE REAL PARENTS. TORIEL IS… SO HAPPY, SHE HAS HER SCHOOL, I'M SO PROUD OF LADY TORIEL. AND, UNDYNE… SHE IS STILL ME WARRIOR CAPTAIN AND MY BESTIE. BUT SHE IS MORE… AND SHE IS HAPPY. SHE TALKS TO ME SOMETIMES, ABOUT HOW SHE WANTS TO HAVE THE LITTLE FISH AND LIZARD BABIES. AND SHE WANTS TO HAVE HER WEDDING… AND SHE WORKS PART TIME AT THIS POLICE STATION HELPING KIDS, LIKE FRISK, SHE SAVES THEM. AND- OH, SANS… ESPECIALLY.”

You feel Papyrus’ arm tighten and he looks away from the sunrise, which is almost over, down at his lap.

“SANS WAS NEVER HAPPY DOWN THERE. I THINK THE THING THAT MAKES ME HAPPY UP HERE… THAT IS THAT SANS IS GETTING BETTER. HE STILL HAS BAD DAYS, I KNOW. SOMETIMES, THEY GET BAD, AND HE WONT TALK TO FRISK FOR DAYS. SOMETIMES HE GETS UPSET AND SAYS, SAD THINGS- LIKE ALL THIS HAPPYNESS WONT LAST. SOMETIMES HE DOES BAD THINGS AND ILL END UP BEING CALLED TO PICK HIM UP FROM GRILLBYS… BUT. ALL OF THAT, THAT’S JUST THE BAD DAYS. NOW THAT WE ARE UP HERE… THERE ARE GOOD DAYS. MORE THAN EVER… I DIDN’T THINK THE SURFACE WOULD… MAKE THIS KIND OF CHANGE FOR EVERYONE. EVERYONE FEELS… HAPPY.” He looked at the sky. The sun was rising in the sky, the radiant colors fading into a milky, streaming white and illuminating the early coastal mist as blue streaked through the sea smog clouds. “I FEEL… HAPPY. IN A WAY I HADNT NECESSARILY KNOWN THAT I WASN’T BEFORE.”

You sat in silence with Papyrus, and after the sun had climbed a little higher, you started to sign.

 **“I think… that house was my underground.”** You start quietly. Papyrus focuses on your hands. **“i… I was happy, there. I still want to go back, sometimes, in a way. This place… your place, everywhere outside of my old world… it’s… it’s scary. I don’t know how things work. I was happy there, because I had my people. Like you had Sans and Undyne and everyone down there, I had… I had my family. But while I was there… I always thought about leaving… like you thought of the surface. I always… wanted to leave, but I was trapped. But…like when you came and took my sibling out to the world, out of our underground… I was… happier. So happy, because they felt better. And then we left, completely… we’re with you, not underground any more. i… I think I'm happy. This… this makes me happy, sitting with you. seeing my family making friends… seeing them safe… seeing them free.”**

**“but… I feel bad. I'm happy, but, its all still scary. I want to go back, sometimes. The happy there… it was easier.”**

“I UNDERSTAND.” Papyrus hummed a little.

You shifted, and almost fell off the rock, so the two of you stopped talking for a minute to get you re-acclimated- the easy route turned out to just have you end up in Papyrus’ lap between his legs. Despite your stiffness being there, you… were okay with that.

“I UNDERSTAND, THOUGH. I MEAN, WANTING TO GO BACK. I WOULD NEVER ACTUALLY WANT TO GO BACK DOWN THERE, LOCKED UP AGAIN. BUT SOMETIMES, EVEN THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS SCARED UP HERE. THE HUMANS… NOT ALL OF THEM LIKE US. SANS TRIES TO HIDE THAT. CHANGES THE NEWS WHEN I WALK IN, BUT I’VE SEEN PEOPLE TRY TO PUT GRILLBY OUT WITH WATER, IVE SEEN THE PEOPLE PROTESTING LADY TORIEL’S SCHOOL AND CUSTODY BATTLE, IVE SEEN THE MONSTERS THAT WERE DUSTED BEFORE IN THE RARE TERRORIST ATTACKS. AND SOMETIMES, I REMEMBER THAT THIS WORLD ABOVE GROUND, IT IS… MUCH BIGGER THAN THE UNDERGROUND. IT TAKE A WHOLE HOUR FOR ASGORE TO VISIT US, WHEN WE COULD HAVE TAKEN THE BOAT PERSON TO THE CAPITAL FROM SNOWDIN IN ONLY 5 MINUTES. ALPHYS WANTS TO MOVE TO A VERY FAR AWAY PLACE CALLED ‘JAPAN TOKYO’ ONE DAY TO LIVE LIKE THE ANIMES. WE WONT SEE UNDYNE OR ALPHYS… NOT MUCH, MAYBE ON A HOLIDAY EVERY YEAR… ITS ACROSS THE PLANET. THIS PLACE, THE SURFACE, ITS SCARY. SOMETIMES, I WANT TO GO BACK. WHERE THE UNDERGROUND WAS SAFE, AND… WELL, IT WAS OVERCROWDED, BUT, EVERYONE WAS STILL YOUR NEIGHBOR.”

You nod along, barely noticing the way his arms wrap around your waist as you start to sign. **“Fahima says, after college, she’s going to move across the planet. She wants to go to Tokyo, too, actually. She wants to work for this lab that works in robotic limbs. Says she’s going to be the one to invent ‘Edwards auto mail arm’ first if it kills her. Like robot limbs for people who lose one, that can move and feel like a normal one. I… I'm scared of when she does that. I won’t see her if she moves. I’ll miss her a lot.”**

“I… DON’T KNOW WHAT I WOULD DO IF SANS MOVED AWAY SO FAR…” PAPYRUS ADMITS. “MY BROTHER… IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN US. EVER SINCE WE WERE BABY BONES. SANS IS THE ONLY FAMILY I EVER HAD… HE RAISED ME, AND THEN, WELL, I TOOK CARE OF HIM. WE… WERE BROTHERS… BROTHERS WHO HAVE SECRETS AND BROTHERS WHO HAVE QUARRELS AND BROTHERS WHO CANT STAND EACHOTHERS SENSE OF HUMOR OR LAZINESS, BUT STILL BROTHERS. WHO WOULD TAKE CARE OF THAT BAG OF BONES IF HE MOVED AWAY??”

You laughed, voice catching on every sound.

You both don’t stay on the beach much longer as families and couples start to arrive and set up on the beach for their beach days. The rest of your date is the monorail back to the station where you’d started. Papyrus holds your hand and you’re both smiling as you walk back to the Skeleton brother’s home.

“WOWIE, WE SPENT THE WHOLE NIGHT ON THIS DATE, AND WE STILL HAVEN’T GONE THROUGH HALF THE BOOK!” Papyrus flips through chapters that the both of you haven’t reached, “PERHAPS WE WENT TOO SLOW ON OUT DATE??”

“ **well, I liked the whole thing! But, uhm, its only 7… no ones will be up yet at home… so…** ” you hesitate, **“i… wouldn’t be against spending more time dating at the house… if you want to finish…?** ”

Papyrus jumped, thoroughly excited. “YES! PLEASE! THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DATING MASTER,  CANNOT LEAVE A DATE UNFINISHED!” He paused and looked at all that the book had left as the both of you reached the house and stepped up the front porch steps. “OH, BUT IF WE ARE TO FINISH… THERE IS A LOT LEFT…”

**“We can skip to the last chapter, maybe?”**

Papyrus nodded.

As you opened the door for him whilst he flipped through, and he found the last chapter as you closed the door and joined him where he’d found a seat on the couch.

“AH! YES! CHAPTER 56: GETTING PHYSICAL WITH YOUR DATE!”

Physical? I mean, you’d had several hugs and you’d practically been touching him all night with hand holding and stuff. Perhaps you’d been too clingy the whole time.

It didn’t matter, apparently.

Papyrus didn’t get to read the page any further.

There was a strange buzzing sound and a weird electric feeling in the air, and then Sans was… there, immediately, and had slapped the book out of Papyrus’ hands right onto the floor.

You and Papyrus, equally wide-eyed, stared at a slightly sweating Sans. “not on the first date, bro.”

Papyrus looked down at his book, mouth open to start yelling about Sans’ surprising actions and how rude that was.

His face flushed orange, suddenly snapping his jaw shut.

You looked down at the item on the floor.

A graphic diagram of, as it were labeled, ‘sex diagram 4; penetration’.

You may be glowing brighter than Papyrus.

“I'm going to _murder_ Undyne.” Sans growled, snatching the book and vanishing.

Maybe she and Alphys should move to Tokyo after all. Immediately. Like, right now.

You and Papyrus share a single glance.

And you both scrambled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehe


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T h e T a l k

Oh my, now this is not something you ever thought you’d need to figure out.

Your life had always been clear in what you were going to be doing.

You’d stay in that house where you belonged, the outside world didn’t want you. You’d be raising your siblings. Maverick was only 6, by the time he was 18 and ready to leave, you’d be over 30.

It sounds horrible but you don’t expect, or didn’t expect, either of your parents to live that long. Your mother would be 60 and your father would be nearing 70 by the time Maverick was 18. And, let’s be real, they were drinking, doing drugs, neither had any form of good eating habit or exercise… would that make it to 60 and 70?

Terry always promised that he’d be the one to move out and take anyone he could with him. he was 17 and almost out of high school, and he’d take you and whoever was still living in that house with him when he got out of college.

You’d raise your siblings until they could handle themselves, and maybe just keep taking care of Aloe, because you didn’t know if she would ever… be self reliant. She’s broken like you, but you don’t know to what extent quite yet. She was still young. 4 years old.

Your life was going to be simple. You’d be a care giver forever. Maybe even one day have to go back to that home to take care of sick, aging parents so the others wouldn’t have to, if either of them lived to be that old.

With all that said, there was only so much you’d need to know for that kind of life.

You knew how to cook. How to clean. How to sew.

You knew first aid to patch yourself and your family up.

You could garden, to help grow your tea leaves with Terry.

You knew your languages out of personal interest and from all the time on your own to just read.

You can read and write. You can do menial, needed skills. You can do math. You can do what you learned and still remembered from your school days.

But that’s about the extent of your knowledge, and you’re starting to learn that there are other things in life to learn.

This… particular knowledge is not something you ever thought you’d need in your life.

You’d always known what your life would hold until the skeleton brothers came along and changed it up, and lately you’d felt like you didn’t know anything anymore. So it was safe to say you were getting used to feeling even more stupid than normal, but, broaching this sort of topic… it was a real bit of icing on the cake, and it wasn’t the kind of thing you could turn to someone for.

Asking your siblings was always how you _normally_ broached a new topic. Fahima could find you books, before, on anything you felt a need to learn. Terry always could explain the kind of topics you’d never understand on your own. You could learn new things with Maverick and as you taught him what you know you’d get a better understanding, sort of like studying. Aloe would be there to give you all her encouragements.

Unfortunately, this was a completely inappropriate topic to discuss with any one of your siblings.

Lately Sans and Papyrus had been your go-to for topics beyond what you’d expected to need, things even your siblings might not be able to help you with as they were also in confusing territory, but.

Even thinking about bringing this up to either of them felt horrifying, in two varying different ways, and you didn’t want to even tempt the thought in your head for longer than the brief second it had occurred.

So, you decided to try and figure it out yourself. at first, anyway.

This wasn’t a topic you knew much about, and it was going to be a bit more complicated to research considering… the situation with it. That much you knew going in as you huddled in a corner of the living room. You’d ask Sans if they had any sort of computer that morning and he’d offered you his laptop if you promised to be careful with it, and that Papyrus had an old computer up in his room. He told you to just use the Laptop- Papyrus’ old computer was a piece of junk from the underground. Sans had gotten the laptop brand new, it worked much better.

The house was quiet when you’d come back down the stairs after asking him and receiving the laptop, as your siblings had returned to school yesterday.

You weren’t all that surprised as you powered it up, huddled in your corner in the living room, to see the really pretty space background on Sans’ laptop.

There’s several file icons but you don’t tread into whatever Sans does on this laptop. You aren’t here to be nosy.

Instead you pull up the web browser and search the only kind of thing you personally know how to on this sort of… topic.

You’ve Google searched the word ‘porn’ before you stop and consider viruses.

You text Sans who’s back up stairs in his room (you think napping, normally he’s not home in the middle of the day so you don’t really know what he does at this time), asking if he has antivirus software.

You get back a ‘no, please don’t go in sketchy websites.’

You sigh, X out of the window, and close the laptop again, scrambling up the steps to take the laptop back to Sans’ bedroom.

He’s still in his room, like when you’d gotten the laptop from him, and he waves at you from where he lays on the bed, now.

“You probably won’t get a virus, kid. You can still use it.” he reminds you, raising an eyebrow as you put his computer down carefully on his messy desk. His room is still a mess of unpacked boxes, even though he and Papyrus have lived in this house about a year, you think. It’s also a horrible catastrophe of garbage and socks in here.

You shake your head and give him a shrug with a nervous smile.

“What were you looking to do, anyway?” He asks in mild curious interest, looking back at a book he’s reading. You’re a little surprised he wasn’t sleeping.

You feel, instantaneously, as your face turns red. Your hands wave a frantic, “ **research.** ” That he just barely catches in the corner of his eye in time.

You feel him squint at you. “Oh yeah? Something I can help you with, maybe?” he offers.

You consider, once more, asking Sans about your topic.

It feels… really embarrassing and… you feel like he’d. Be mad at you about this?

Your hands twitch and you fidget with the hem of the thick sweater you’re wearing, shaking your head and looking pointedly at the floor. You don’t want to give Sans a good reason to be mad at you- even if you do that all the time just by mooching off his house.

Oh, now you’re even regretting asking to borrow his computer. Clearly he uses that to do some important work, you shouldn’t be using that, he might need it.

“Relax a little, kiddo.” His mattresses creek as he sits up, and puts his book up. “Your ol’ funny bones pal is just looking to lend a helpin hand, don’t stress it. You’re working yourself up, I can feel it in my bones.”

Your shoulders give a little bounce at a silent chuckle, and you hide a smile with your hand, to which Sans chuckles too.

“I won’t force you to ask me but, I'm all ears.” He taps the sides of his skull with both hands where he certainly does _not_ have said appendages. “You want to ask me anything or need a bit of help some other way, I'm glad to. Just- uh, don’t give me too much to do, I’d rather take a nap.”

You chuckle again and he smirks, but you can’t help but feel like a bother and start inching for the door, signing to him, “ **No, it is alright. Thank you.** ” but, pause at the door. He eyes you, patient- oh, so, so patient with you, he’s a saint- and curious. You ask him slowly, “ **do you think Undyne or Alphys will be coming over any time soon?** ”

Sans makes a sound like he just clicked his tongue, which raises several concerns considering he doesn’t have one. “Actually they’re over at Tori’s right now. Undyne’s teaching Pap and Frisk to… ‘cook’… with Toriel’s supervision, of course.”

Ah. That’s where Papyrus went? You knew he’d left about an hour ago, but didn’t want to bother him with questions as he yelled his goodbyes to you and Sans.

“Honestly it’s about time I head over there anyway, I gotta talk with Frisky ‘bout some stuff.” He hopped off his bed, then smirked. “Wanna come? I know a good shortcut.”

Well that’s really suspicious, but you take the hand he’s holding out to you- the bone is somewhat warm and reminds you of Papyrus- and you’re rocked with a dizzy, nauseated feeling.

Oh, look at that. You’re in your neighbor Toriel’s kitchen watching Undyne hollering encouragements as Frisk stands on the counter rapidly stirring something on the stove. Papyrus is practically screaming as he coaches Alphys into rapidly chopping lettuce and they’re both screaming positive messages like “I'M WORTHWHILE AND SUPER COOL.” Toriel is off to the side, watching with eagle eyes, and thoroughly amused.

You look at Sans with wide eyes, tentively letting go of his hand. He grins at you in a manner that you can’t help feel dubious about whatever just happened and how you got here.

“HUMAN! SANS!”

Ah. Undyne has spotted you.

“YOU’RE JUST IN TIME!” Undyne heaves Frisk off the counter, who cheers silently. “THE TACOS ARE READY! PAPYRUS! RETRIEVE THE SHELLS FROM THE OVEN!”

“YES, UNDYNE!”

Papyrus snatches the knife from the frantically chopping Alphys’ hands so she wont cut herself while he leaves her and promptly tears open the oven door, valiantly calling at Frisk to “STAND BACK, TINY HUMAN!”

Alphys slumps in relief that she no longer must chop and yell. She’s smiling.

You can’t help but smile at them all. They’re such a great group.

Frisk, Papyrus, and Undyne promptly get carried away making Taco Supremes, as they call it, stuffing shells and tortillas with all the toppings and such they’d prepared for everyone. Frisk thrusts a plate of tacos they made up to you and you’re obliged by their excited smile to take it, grinning, and sign a thank you that makes the child bounce in place before going to make another plate for a proud Toriel.

Eventually you catch Undyne’s eye and mange to sign to her, “ **I need to talk to you and Doctor Alphys, please?** ” You shoot a glance around the room to see if others have watched your hand motions- the only one who seems to have is Frisk, who’s watching from their seat on a counter, and is naturally eagle eyes with signing as compared to others who don’t use it as often.

Undyne must see the way your eyes catch on both the skeletons because she stomps her foot with a gleam in her eye that sparkles.

“Lady’s time!” She states abruptly and grabs your arm, yanking you up to her side, and you blink in surprise. “ALPHY! Let’s go! Bring your taco!”

She snatches a grip on Alphys’ arm too, who yelps with a red flush, and you find yourself and the dino-monster being dragged out of the kitchen. The rest of the room looks on with a mild amusement and Frisk is quick to extract their attention when Papyrus looks like he’s about to follow after.

Undyne deposits the three of you in what looks like a dining room and slams all the doors, and briefly runs away only to come back with her taco plate she’d left in the kitchen as well as an arm full of sodas, and slams the last door closed.

You find yourself alone in the room with both monster woman.

Undyne grins at you with sharp teeth, passing you a soda that slides across the table.

“How’s this, punk?”

You can’t help a chuckle as you catch it. “ **Thank you.** ”

“wh-what?” Alphys is perplexed.

“The human wanted to talk to us!” Undyne states matter of factly. “ALSO, don’t call Alphys ‘Doctor Alphys’, just call her Alphys!”

“Pl-please do.” Alphys nods, giving you a shy smile.

You nod, blushing. “ **I’m Sorry, Alphys.** ”

“o-o-oh, no, its fine, r-really.”

Undyne pounds a fist on the table. “OKAY, human! Out with it! whats the gossip? Tell your besties, we’re here for you!”

You smile, albeit nervously. She’s so rowdily encouraging.

“ **I uhm. Never thought I’d have any reason to know something like this, personally.** ” You sign, slowly, trying to figure out what of the many questions in your head you want to actually ask. “ **I don’t think… I don’t know if I should even be trying to figure this out, but…** ”

You stop. You scratch your head. “ **uhm, first. If this is out of line… feel free not to answer, but, uhm… how do monsters-?”** you pause and cut your hands off again. You don’t actually know the hand signs for a word to finish your questions. You’ve never tried to sign the word ‘procreate’, which is the word that comes to mind. Instead, you try and reword yourself, but Undyne beats you to it.

“How do monsters make babies, right?” She’s grinning at you crookedly. When you blink at her she chuckles. “Yeah- that’s a question I'm sure everyone’s been asked by this point! Everyone wants to know if monster couples do the nasty and where the little monster babies come from, hah!”

“Oh jeeze, is that what you were trying to ask me?”

You almost fucking throw a taco at Sans.

“SANS YOU BONEY ASSHOLE I SAID IT WAS LADIES TIME.”

“What can I say? I go where I sense a good topic for jokes. My funny bone practically _tingles_ when there’s a chance to make jokes about the bone zone.”

“THAT SOUNDS LIKE A FUCKIN DIRTY JOKE GET OUT.”

“Or what? You’ll jump my bones?”

“Sans that- GOD, STOP.”

Sans puts a solid arm around your shoulder and you can feel him grinning his ass off, even if you can’t see it with your red face buried in your arms on the table. “Wow, kid, if you really just needed a talk about the birds and the bees, you could have asked me.”

“Sans, GET OUT. YOU CLEARLY CANT BE IN HERE, I MEAN WE’RE TALKING ABOUT YOUR BROTHER’S GIRLFRIEND.”

You hear Papyrus’ voice start coughing from what sounds like the living room, and feel your face heat up. Curse your sharp hearing, and how far Undyne’s yells can travel.

You whine and pick your head up, trying to shhhhh-face to Undyne, pointing to the door.

The fish woman covers her mouth and starts laughing.

“You see,” Sans starts, nudging your shoulder. “When two monsters love each other veeeeery much-”

You groan and hide your face on the table again.

Its funny, but, you really do have _real_ questions.

You sign to them just that, without looking up: “ **I have serious questions and concerns.** ”

You feel… so stupid right now.

“Are- Are- uhm, Are you… sure you want to be asking, uh, us? These questions?” Alphys asks.

You look again up at her, curious.

She’s already flustered as you are. “U-U-Uh, well- well, uhm, you- you are… human? We- We’re monsters. We don’t… do things… the same way. And- And, uh- I feel like… you don’t know… much about this at all- the- the human part of this. I- I mean, Undyne and I- we- we aren’t even- uhm- uhm.”

“Yeah.” Undyne slaps the table thoughtfully before propping up her head. “Alph and I are monsters, and _gay_ monsters. We aren’t even straight like you- I think your straight? I don’t know- you like pap. You’re Papyrus-romantic. That’s, like. Out of our zone in several ways.”

You can visibly see the sweat on Sans’ skull when you look at him as he speaks, sitting at your side at the table across from Alphys and Undyne. “Awh hell.”

Undyne looks just a little sick after a second. “Hell, same there. Kinda weird imaging that kind of thing and _pap_ , he’s like, a little brother.”

You sit up abruptly, signing quickly.

“ **I'm very sorry. I just know nothing about this at all, I never thought- I didn’t consider being a person’s partner, and, I just- I realized I didn’t even know how a date works, and I know even less about this part of things. I just, wanted to know, just, something. Just in case. I don’t know, I'm sorry-** ”

Sans put one of his hands on your rapid signs, making your heart skip a beat and eyes squeeze shut, expecting the sharp yanking pain you’re used to. It doesn’t come, so you open your eyes to see him smirking at Undyne’s squint of confusion. “Not everyone can read when you’re going that fast, kiddo.”

He looks at you when you don’t move at all, like a stone statue, then looks back at your hands and let’s go carefully with a muffled apology.

You shake your head with a nervous smile, rubbing your wrists as you tuck them under the table. You try and relax a little, suddenly scared off from signing.

After a few seconds of quiet, Sans runs his hand down over his face.

“Okay. Short, and simply put. Papyrus is… of maturity age. Same thing to humans as Post-Puberty.” He explains slowly, “That said, it’s not the kind of thing that’s… _ever_ shown up on his radar. He’s not stupid and he knows what all that is, I mean, I gave the guy a where-do-baby-bones-come-from talk once, and from there he knows what he’s learned like any other monster. But- again, it’s not something on his radar. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s totally Asexual. It’s not something I think you need to be concerned about.”

“The question is,” Undyne drawled in an almost ghost-story-telling voice, smirking at you with a mildly dirty sort of look. “Are you ‘concerned’ about it coming from him, or are you ‘concerned’ about him _not_ wanting it the way humans like it?”

You sort of. Stare at her.

Sans folds his hands on the table with a very tired, exasperated sigh. “Alright kid let’s keep this straightforward and honest. Are you looking to bone my brother.”

This is really not how you were expecting this conversation to go.

Now you’re just staring at Sans.

The only answer you can give him is a shrug.

He doesn’t seem to like that. He exhales through his teeth slowly. “Kid. It’s a really simple question. Either you want to have sex with him or you don’t.”

Just the _word_ makes you feel nervous, as it’s the first time someone’s actually said it in the conversation.

Carefully you raise your hands and try and force them to sign again.

“ **I. I really don’t know. I’ve never really done anything like that before-** ” Undyne makes a scoffing noise and says something like ‘who would have guessed’, “ **and I know what it is in a basic sort of way. Reproduction, like that. But I don’t really know… _what_ it is? Or what _counts_ as it?** ”

Sans makes a funny face. “…what… _counts_ as sex?”

You nod, and every time you here him use the word so bluntly it makes you a little dizzy. “ **Like, human lesbian sex? Like… there isn’t any…** ” your hands fluster in a brief little embarrassed spasm as you try to figure out how to translate ‘penetration’. Sans waves you off and he gets what you mean, thankfully.

“Well that would be the two of _their’s_ territory. But in a long scheme I’d say whatever you _intend to be_ sex is what counts as sex.”

That just makes you feel more confused as you fidget with your hair.

“Allow me to reword this for you.” Undyne leans forward. You get a distinct feeling she’s enjoying this… ‘interrogation’ part. “Should Papyrus ask you to try something like that, which could be considered sexual, would you be up for it?”

You look at her, now, blinking, and your hands sign without thinking at sheer relief for a question they know how to answer. “ **I’d do anything he asked me. I owe him my life.** ”

Undyne leans back after a second, then crossed her arms after a few more. She regards you a moment. “So you’d let him do _anything_ to you? No- okay, what I asked was, would you _want_ to?”

Again your hands move with your first thoughts. “ **I don’t know if I would. But if he told me to I’d do something.** ”

Undyne squints.

“I don’t like that.” She states firmly, unable to word it in another coherent way.

Alphys’ claws thrum over the table, and she gives it a try to reword it herself upon seeing your confusion. “-uhm- uh- I don’t doubt that, uh- Papyrus wouldn’t- _coerce you_ to do things but-” she loses her footing with her words and her face squints.

Sans picks it up for her on the same track. “No, Papyrus wouldn’t, I can pretty much guarantee, but- kid, that’s not a very healthy frame of mind. Let’s not just do things like that because you feel an obligation.”

His wording trips you up a little, and you look and Sans with round eyes. “ **like, us?** ”

He leans back from you, “what- no, not us.” He scrambles to reword himself. “woah, jeeze. Ok, you misunderstood that- no, not ‘us’ lets. You. _You_ don’t do things like that because you feel an obligation.”

Ah. You feel really, really stupid right about now. You wish your head worked better. Idiot.

Undyne shakes her head. “Alright punk, the simple term is: you are not obligated to the sexual shit, which is what this… whole thing is starting to sound like now that I look at it.” She squints. “You’re trying to look into the sexual shit, in case it’s something Papyrus will want from you at some point?”

You nod, carefully signing. “ **yes. I never thought I would… a relationship with someone was never expected for me. The only people I knew were my family. So… I don’t know anything about this thing, but, if-** ”

Sans taps the table and you look at him. He’s giving you a serious look.

“I love my bro, ok, kid? I’d give him anything he ever asked for. I get you feel the same way- slightly different but, similar. But that’s not the kind of thing you ‘give’ someone. The only time you do things like that with a person is because you _want_ to, not because you owe it to someone. because you don’t.”

You glance down at your hands a moment. Then back up, conflicted. “ **I’d just want to make him happy.** ”

Sans shakes his head, smiling in an interesting way you don’t really understand. “That’s okay. But he wants to make you happy, too. No one wants you to regret something you did. So don’t end up doing anything that you don’t think is right, okay?”

Undyne reached over the table and takes both your hands, seriously. “Kid. We’re your girls. Your gal pals. We’re here to talk. You got questions again later? Fantastic, Alph and I are here for you.” Alphys nods quickly, agreeing. “But sex and shit- it isn’t all about knowing what to do. We’ll answer your questions but trust me, it aint like a test you have to prepare for, if it ever happens at all.”

Alphys gives you a smile. “we- we’ll- we’ll answer any questions you ever need- and- and you can just talk- talk to us if you want, too. But- but- b-but you don’t have to come… ask- ask like this, just to- to be ready to please someone, okay? We’re- we’re here for you, to teach you what you _want_ to know, not- not what you _have_ to know.”

You nod and can’t help smiling.

Then, you watch Undyne’s face change to something far more confused and slightly grossed out and she lets go of your hands.

“ _FUCK_ man, does this mean- shit, I'm going to have to give Papyrus a _talk_.”

Sans gives her a loathing look. “I'm surprised your _book_ didn’t tell him everything he needed to know first.”

Undyne waved her arms in the air, “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THERE WAS A CHAPTER LIKE THAT?? SHIT MAN I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW SKELETON SEX _WORKS_ IS A HUMAN BOOK EVEN ACCURATE??”

Sans just face palms.

Your face is so red, and you’re glad that Sans cuts this conversation short by teleporting out, prompting Undyne to run after him to try and get him to answer her question. You and Alphys giggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy pride month folks
> 
> if ur a type that fucks do it safely and if ur not good for u ayeee

**Author's Note:**

> You think "Abuse/Child Abuse" Would be a Major Archive Warning Tag, you know? I think it should be, anyway.


End file.
